#both believe and disbelieve and you’ll never be wrong. or right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Patience of a Saint

An Ushijima x virgin reader commission for the wonderful @hearteyes-candyskies, I hope you enjoy it, bby! 💕

Ushijima Wakatoshi x female reader

TW non-con, nsfw, smut, virgin reader

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ushijima simply shrugs, “Why would I joke about something like that?”

Semi and Tendou share a glance, the former hiding a smirk behind the glass rim of his beer bottle. Tendou had been the one to drag them both downtown for ramen in the middle of the night, an impromptu reunion of sorts, now that the volleyball season had wrapped up and Tendou was back in Sendai.

Perhaps his first mistake had been to allow his friend the option to stay with him instead of booking a hotel. Though, truth be told, Tendou would have undoubtedly monopolised his time regardless of where he was staying, and Ushijima would have allowed him to.

They were friends, after all, and that was what friends did. He was just glad that Semi had been roped in alongside him.

When and how the conversation had steered towards his relationship with you, more specifically the details regarding your bedroom exploits together, Ushijima isn’t entirely sure, but he has no reason to lie to his friends.

The disbelieving look on Tendou’s face, however, makes him wonder if he’s said something wrong. “You mean to tell me that you’ve been dating this girl for how many months now, and you haven’t actually slept together yet?”

At that, Ushijima shakes his head. “We’ve slept together,” he corrects, taking a sip of his own beer. He likes sleeping with you, finds an odd sense of comfort he’s never felt before, waking up to find you curled against his side.

Most mornings Ushijima has no trouble getting out of bed for an early start. He’s found that lately, at least on the nights you stay over, that’s no longer the case.

The snort from his right is abruptly cut off into a choking cough as Semi tries and fails to mask his amusement. “He means sex, dude. You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

“No.”

The loud cackles from the ex-middle blocker are enough to draw the attention of several other patrons, but Tendou pays them no mind. “Why the hell not? Is she hideously ugly or something?”

“Nope,” Semi answers in his stead, a little too quickly for Ushijima’s liking. But he supposes he cannot blame his friend for noticing your attractiveness. You are, of course, beautiful - he’s told you many times.

A lone, red eyebrow quirks, glittering amusement dancing across Tendou’s face, “Are you… are you having trouble performing, big guy?”

Semi almost chokes on his mouthful, and even Ushijima feels the tips of his ears flush red. “No,” he asserts with a frown. “She…” he pauses, unsure for the first time whether this might be a line that he’s crossing to reveal something so personal between the two of you.

It’s not like he hasn’t discussed sex with them before. He has an almost uncomfortable amount of knowledge regarding the girls the redhead has been with, and Semi is no better.

(Semi was actually far, far worse.)

And truth be told he’s never been shy to share his own exploits with his friends, either. You might be the first girl that Ushijima’s ever loved, but love is not a necessary requirement for sex. He ensured that his partners left satisfied and so did he, there wasn’t anything more to it than that.

But you mean something to him. You mean everything.

“She… wants to wait,” he says quietly. “She’s-”

Tendou’s red eyes widen, his face transforming into an expression of delighted surprise as he puts it all together. “She’s a virgin?!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Semi grunts, smacking his old friend over the back of his head, “you wanna say that a little louder? I don’t think the entire restaurant heard you.”

Tendou waves off his admonishment with a flick of his wrist, his attention firmly fixed on the ace. “So I was right then? You found yourself a cute, innocent little virgin for a girlfriend?”

Ushijima doesn’t reply, he doesn’t need to.

He can still remember the scared look on your face the first time you stopped him, the way your hands shook and your pretty eyes filled with tears as you explained. Did you truly believe he would leave you over something as simple as that?

While he might have been… somewhat disappointed, he understood. He loves you, he’s known that for a while. He could be patient, wait for you to become accustomed to him, wait for you to get over your fears and apprehension.

Not that you make it easy for him. He knows you aren’t teasing him on purpose with low cut dresses and too short skirts, cuddling close in bed at night just so you can grind your ass against the swell of his cock, you’re too innocent for such things.

But that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the heat that pools in his gut, the stirrings of desire and twitch of his cock every time you bend over in front of him and he’s rewarded with a perfect view. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to excuse himself to the bathroom, bracing himself against the wall, bent over and fisting his cock to the mental image of you spread out naked, desperate and begging before him.

“Wait, wait, hold up. I’m still a bit ticked off that you’ve been dating this girl for months and managed to hide her from me, your very best friend. I wanna see pics!”

Ushijima exhales, “You will meet her tomorrow-”

But it’s a fruitless endeavour, as Semi’s already scrolling through his phone to pull up your social media. Dutifully he passes it across the table, and Ushijima can only watch as Tendou’s eyes widen and a wicked grin creeps across his face.

“You, my big, beautiful, brawny friend, have the patience of a saint. My condolences.”

—

He meets you the very next day, and there’s a strange feeling in Ushijima’s chest as he watches you collapse into a fit of giggles at Tendou’s joke, the redhead’s arm slung casually over your shoulders.

He’s pleased that you get along with his old friends, it’s not something he’s ever had to concern himself with with his previous partners. They were nothing more than blips on a radar - not necessarily one night stands, but hardly worth introducing to the people who matter most to Ushijima.

Yet he can’t help but linger on Tendou’s comment from the night before.

You hadn’t told him that you were waiting for marriage. It wasn’t a religious vow you’d taken. It was just that you weren’t ready for sex yet. You asked for time.

And he’d understood. Your relationship was new, and he supposed that for your first time he was perhaps intimidating. You were shy. Nervous.

It was to be expected.

But hasn’t he proven by now that he can be gentle? That he loves you, and he has absolutely no intention of leaving you? You’re the only one he wants to be with - the only one he’ll ever want to be with. If you’re waiting for the right ‘one’ to lose your virginity to, what more does he have to do to convince you that he’s it?

Which makes him consider, watching you smile at him as you duck into his kitchen to grab some more snacks, whether you might not be as invested in this relationship as he is.

He doesn’t doubt that you love him, but even as you sidle up beside him, letting him tuck you to his side where you belong, he can’t help but question whether the true reason you haven’t allowed him to take you as he wants is because you’re still under the assumption that your relationship has an expiration date.

The thought doesn’t sit well with him.

Sex is separate from love, Ushijima knows that, but he’s also firmly of the belief that it can be an act of intimacy, an expression of love deeper than words or other actions can convey. He wants to feel that with you.

He wants to watch you writhing beneath him, your pussy squeezing around his cock, milking it for all it’s worth, lost in the ecstasy that only he can bring you.

He wants to know what sounds you’ll make, what pretty moans and gasps he can draw out from you as he fucks you within an inch of your sanity.

He wants to look in your eyes the first time he makes you cum, wants to take his time, to kiss you slowly, baptise you in pleasure and watch as you surrender yourself completely to the love he has for you.

Ushijima doesn’t have time to waste on romantic flings and relationships that will go nowhere. You are his future, so it does not make sense for you to keep holding yourself back where sex is concerned.

The sound of your laugh breaks through Ushijima’s musing and he’s pulled back to the present as you recount the story of how the two of you met to the redhead. He’s told Tendou before, but somehow the way you tell it made it sound better. You paint him in a better light, make yourself out to be the awkward one, stumbling over your apologies when it was his fault that you’d tripped in the first place.

You don’t have a clue about the weeks leading up to that moment, but it hardly matters. He’s content merely just to listen as you speak, your cheeks warming, long lashes fluttering as you glance up at him with that gentle smile of yours.

He loves you.

Across from the both of you, he catches the pointed look in Tendou’s eye-

It will be good for the both of you.

-and comes to a decision.

Unsurprisingly, the redhead just grins brightly when Ushijima corners him shortly afterwards, telling him that he will have to find somewhere else to stay for the night.

“No worries, I can crash at Semisemi’s,” he sings, rocking up onto the balls of his feet. “You two need your space, I get that.”

Ushijima nods, turning to leave, only for Tendou to reach out and stop him. “Yes?”

“You know, I kinda like her, Ushiwaka. Think she’ll be good for you, so try not to break her in two tonight, yeah?”

He frowns at the comment, causing Tendou to break into a fit of laughter.

By now, he should be used to his friend’s ribbing, but the thought of hurting you even as a joke doesn’t sit well with the ace.

To his credit, Tendou plays his role well. You all but beg him to stay for dinner, but he just mournfully shakes his head, sighing about Eita twisting his arm and forcing him to go watch him and his band play at some local bar.

And then, it’s just the two of you.

In hindsight, perhaps he should have put more effort into making this romantic for you. He’s never had to try with things like that before. He should have cooked dinner, and maybe considered candles and roses, or even music.

Instead, you order takeout and eat it sprawled across Ushijima’s lap, and he cannot find it within himself to mind. The most mundane activities are made better simply for you being by his side, he’s found.

He waits, fingers casually stroking along your arm as you curl up to his side to watch something on TV. You seem to be enjoying it, if the giggles that spill from your lips are anything to go by, but Ushijima finds himself distracted by the gnawing feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an eagerness that has him twitching to act.

It doesn’t help that he’s all too aware of the softness of your body pressing against his.

But he won’t have your first time together be on his living room couch, of all places. He has enough patience to wait for weariness to set in, and when you yawn trying to muffle it against his shoulder, Ushijima almost smiles. “Why don’t we go to bed?”

You nod, and he presses a gentle kiss to your hair before helping you up.

He knows that you like to shower before sleeping, and while there’s a voice in his head that whispers for him to go and join you, Ushijima simply strips out of his clothes, sits on the edge of his bed and waits.

When you emerge from the steam, smelling faintly of the vanilla and citrus body wash he’d bought after the first night you’d stayed over, he stiffens. Instead of your usual sleeping attire (an old tee-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts) you’re clad solely in one of his fluffy towels, hair still damp, skin glistening with stray droplets of water.

“Hey, sorry I forgot my-” you pause, words trailing off as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, utterly naked. For a split second, you freeze in place, eyes wide and lips softly parted, like a deer caught in headlights.

And then, just as Ushijima moves to stand, you snap out of it.

“Oh my god!” you cry, whirling around and clutching the knot of your towel, hiding yourself from his view and burying your face in your hands. “I-I’m sorry!”

It’s rather adorable how flustered you get by something as natural as nakedness.

“Why wou- you know what, nevermind. I…uh, I forgot my clothes, they’re just on my bag I think, could you, um- could you please pass them to me?”

He spies them, folded neatly on the top of the overnight bag you’d packed. Instead, he reaches out to take your hand and gently tug you back towards him.

“Wakatoshi, what are you-” but your surprised protests are swallowed up as he leans down to kiss you. Yet instead of softening to his touch, allowing him to take the lead as he usually does, you stiffen in his arms, your hands finding their way to his bare chest, trying to push him away.

“Toshi, just- just stop for a second, please?” you gasp, managing to extricate yourself from the kiss.

That won’t do.

He has to be gentle with you, but with anticipation coiling in his gut, his cock stirring at the thought of your almost naked body pressed against his, it’s easy for him to forget his strength as he rids you of the offending material, bends down and hefts you up into his arms.

“Shh, little one,” he says, ignoring your shouts as he takes the three steps over to his bed so he can lay you down. “I know you’re scared, but you have no need to be. I won’t hurt you. I’m going to make us both feel good, I promise.”

He bestows another kiss against your forehead as he climbs over your trembling frame.

“Babe… Toshi, please- I-I’m not, I don’t-” your eyes are wide and filling with tears and you’re shaking your head - it fills him with a flicker of unease, but he knows deep down that this is just temporary.

You need this as much as he does, and once he shows you how wonderful he can make you feel, you’ll thank him.

Cradling your cheek with one large hand, he tries to tell you as much.

But your breath is coming in quick pants, your terrified eyes darting past his broad frame as if you’re trying to look for an escape route while pleas and whimpers spill almost incoherently from your lips, and he realises that words won’t be enough.

He’ll just have to show you.

“I love you,” he murmurs, kissing you once more before turning his attention to the rest of your body. It’s not the first time he’s seen you bared, of course, but it is the first time he’s been allowed the luxury of taking his time to enjoy it.

Your whimpers are soft and distressed as his lips trail down the column of your throat, resisting the urge to nip and suck at the tender skin, and you squirm under him when his mouth finds your breasts. The sounds you make for him, your choked little gasps only feed the pit of hunger deep inside of him. You must be able to feel his cock, big and thick, rutting up against your stomach, leaving a shining trail of oozing pre-cum across your skin as he busies himself playing with your tits.

They’re soft and pillowy, just the perfect size for his hands to grasp and knead, and the way that you keen for him, jerking a little when he sucks a nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the pebbling bud is utterly captivating. You’re so caught up in the attention he’s paying to your chest that you miss the hand that trails down your side, snaking between your trembling thighs.

At least until long, thick digits swipe along your folds.

Like a frightened little rabbit, your eyes widen and you jolt into action. “Wakatoshi, stop!” you cry, hands finding his chest once more to try and push him off of you, your legs kicking out uselessly beneath him.

His expression softens, his thumb sweeping against your thigh in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Shh, it’s okay. I need to prepare you to take me, otherwise it will hurt.”

If anything, your expression only becomes more panicked. “No, no, no, no-”

“Let me take care of my girl. You’ll feel good,” he murmurs, and already his fingers are sliding back to your pussy. You’re not as wet as he’d like, but it’s no matter, as his thumb finds your clit, his other fingers returning to tease at your entrance.

The soft little moan you try and fail to bite back as one finger slides inside of you sends a rush of blood straight to his cock. It twitches and throbs, aching for relief and perhaps if you were anybody else, he might throw caution to the wind and fuck you right then and there, regardless of whether you were ready or not.

But as you shiver, gasping as he curls the thick digit inside of you, he’s reminded that he needs to have patience. You are not worth rushing, and despite the feral beast inside of him that’s snapping and snarling to sink into your heat, he wants to savour this.

You only get one first time, and he’s determined to make yours unforgettable.

“That’s just one finger,” he tells you, his thumb circling your clit in slow, steady movements. “You’re going to take three before I can fuck you properly, understand?”

He doesn’t want to break you in half, after all.

You still writhe beneath him, shaking and jolting as he teases your shining pearl and coaxes your pussy into accepting another finger, and when he lowers his mouth back to your tits to add to the pleasure building inside of you, a sob bursts free.

“Please- please, Toshi!”

A third finger prods at your entrance-

“Please don’t!”

He almost winces at the sharp hiss of pain that escapes you, but he reassures himself that it will only be for a moment. The stretch and burn will give way to pleasure as he fucks them into you slowly. Your pussy is so warm, so tight, sucking the digits in deeper and when rough fingertips brush against a particular spot on your walls and you cry out, Ushijima allows a small, adoring smile to cross his face.

“Good girl,” he purrs, quickening his pace.

You’ve always been so beautiful to him, but when you cum for him that first time, face flushed and dewy, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try not to scream in pleasure, he doesn’t think there’s anything on earth that could possibly compare.

The same could be said about the way you taste, he thinks, greedily sucking your juices off of his fingers.

“Wakatoshi,” you beg, lying spent across his bed still reeling from the afterglow of your orgasm as he slides your thighs further apart so he can settle between them. He grunts a little as he wraps his hand around his flushed cock and guides it to your sopping entrance, marvelling at the way you shiver and mewl when he nudges it against your oversensitive clit.

Olive eyes find yours, and he cannot resist leaning down to claim your lips once more as he sinks slowly inside of you.

The sound that escapes him is deep and guttural, but the feel of your warm pussy clenching around his throbbing cock is simply heaven, and he almost - almost - loses control.

Forcing his eyes open, he watches your face as you take his cock, feeling every vein and ridge stretch you out, the pained whimpers that slip from behind clenched teeth. He knows that he’s bigger than average, that his girth is impressive and that even with his foreplay you’re still squeezing around him like a vice, but he forces himself to take it slow, to allow you the time to adjust.

He almost starts when you reach out to grab him, fingers painfully sinking into the muscles of his forearm as you fight off another wave of tears, so he pauses for a beat, peppering your face with more kisses. “You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl.”

When your grip eases, he resumes moving, drawing his hips back and trying not to curse at the friction your slick walls are creating.

“I love you,” he grunts, “so much.”

And then he rocks his hips forward - steadily, filling you up again, allowing you to get used to his girth. He kisses you, trails rough fingertips gently along your skin, teases you finding all the sensitive spots that make you moan for him.

Gradually, he feels you relax around him.

The obscene sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you, the rhythmic slap of skin against skin is drowned out by your soft whines and pants as Ushijima slowly picks up the pace. He fucks you deeply, but not roughly, taking care not to hurt you anymore than necessary.

It’s slow and sensual - your body can’t help but respond to his ministrations, and when you clench around him, sucking him deeper Ushijima can’t help but groan, feeling the tight coil of heat in his core burn as pleasure ripples through him.

He wants more. Needs it.

Ushijima’s hands wrap around your thighs, easing them back towards your chest so that your ankles fall over his broad shoulders. He kisses at your calf when confusion flickers across your face, but doesn’t offer any explanation as he snaps his hips forward once more. The choked scream that leaves your lips is beautiful, but he can barely focus on that when he finally bottoms out, his balls slapping against your ass as another hoarse groan leaves him.

He promised himself that he would be gentle with you, but as your velvety walls quiver and convulse around him and your lips fall open in another soundless scream as your second orgasm hits, he’s not entirely sure that he’ll be able to keep that promise.

There’s a tightening in his balls and he can feel the tether he has on his control fraying little by little as you moan for him, your hips rocking up to meet his fervent thrusts. You’re beautiful, perfect, and he’s losing himself to the feeling of being buried inside of you. It’s indescribable, the way your pussy’s fluttering around him, clenching and pulsing, kissing his cock with sweltering heat - it feels like the very edges of his sanity are blurring as he fucks himself deeper inside of you, his cockhead hitting your cervix with every thrust. He wants to cum, wants to fill you up with his thick load again and again and again, wants you so full it’s leaking out of you-

It won’t be enough, it’ll never be enough.

He loves you, and Ushijima won’t ever be satisfied again without the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, milking him for every drop that he’s worth.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere ushijima wakatoshi #yandere ushijima x reader #yandere ushijima #yandere ushijima wakatoshi x reader #tw non con #virgin reader

2K notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

—————————————————

Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  

“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

—— The Next Morning ——

Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

“Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

The End.

—————————————————

Epilogue

#spencer reid #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid request #reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid self insert

604 notes · View notes

mrslilyrogers · 4 years ago

Text

All I have to do is Dream Part 2

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all.

Author’s note: I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before but reader here has studied at the Xavier Institute so she’s basically part of the X-men. You don’t have to read the comics or watch their movies, it is just part of her background. This is based on Endgame and would follow its progression. If you want to be tagged, please send an ask!! Thank you all for reading!!!

Part 1

Steve’s jaw twitched, his throat muscles working, eyes never leaving the photo on his phone. He pursed his lips and let out a huge exhale, running a hand on his face. What the hell had you done?

Nat didn’t question when he came back to the compound late last night nor when he didn’t show up the morning after, only learning from F.R.I.D.A.Y, he was up earlier than his usual and left. He came back a few hours ago, sweaty and gruff, immediately rushing to lock himself up at the gym. Wallowing there until now.

She had known Steve long enough to know he was blowing off steam. She knew better than to pry, letting him keep to himself until he was ready to talk, and Steve was glad for it. Glad he still had one friend who cared.

What the hell had you done?

—————————-

You jolted from the bed, Steve’s eyes drilling holes in your direction from where he sat stiffly beside you, his mouth pressed into a thin disapproving line. If only looks could kill. You had never seen him so angry in your life. His breath coming in rapid pants, his fists clenched tight at his sides, the muscles around his neck and arms bulging. You felt naked under his gaze, bared to the soul with nowhere to hide. Ironic when just a few moments ago, you had breached into his mind, violating his privacy to the utmost.

“Y/N,” he said, deathly low and lethal, a warning.

“Steve, I’m sorry I didn’t know--” you scrambled to your feet, panic rising up to your throat, cheeks wet with tears.

“Bullshit!” He roared, not letting you finish, shooting up to his feet like the soldier he was. His tightly coiled temper finally unleashed. “You went inside my head! Don’t you fucking give me any excuses!”

In his anger, he threw the analog clock from his bedside table to the floor, breaking it into tiny pieces instantly, the sound of it cracking and your crying the only things filling the air. You didn’t recognize the sobs coming from you, not even knowing if it was from what you’ve just discovered or the way he looked at you now. As if he didn’t know you, as if he could never trust you again.

“I’m sorry,” was all you said. And you were. In every sense of the word. Sorry for yourself, sorry for what you’ve learned, sorry for what you’ve done.

“How could you do this to me?” Steve asked, disbelieving.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just… I overheard you at grief counseling--”

“You what?” He hissed, eyes incredulous and accusing. “Are you fucking spying on me now?” he pointed his finger at you, circling the bed to stand in front of you, his steps quick and long. He looked like he did on missions. One purpose, ready to attack. It was a miracle he kept his fists at his sides instead of shaking you.

“NO! No, I was waiting outside and I heard what you said, and it’s made me think…”

“No, you didn’t think! I told you time and time again, I love you. What more do you fucking need?” His voice grew even louder, exasperation and impatience seeping out of him as if he had been putting up with you for so long.

What more do you need? What more do you need?

“The truth, Steve! I just wanted to know the truth!” You answered back, voice rising in return. The whole time you thought you were only being paranoid, insecure, blaming it on yourself when you weren’t wrong all along. He still wanted her. Yearned for her.

“And are you happy now? You happy that you’ve forced it out of me?” Steve’s tone turned mocking, his eyes hard and jaw tensed. No denial, no guilt. He baited you and if he had enough presence of mind, he wouldn’t have said that, wouldn’t have deliberately gone out of his way to cut you deep. But right at this moment, all he saw was red. He wanted to hurt you, to punch, to scream. His hands shook, in the need to destroy something, to fight someone. Fists bringing out what he couldn’t put forth into words. He knew he had to leave.

You flinched from his words as if you’ve been physically slapped. Eyes full of hurt, you were speechless, immobilized to the spot, no other choice but to take it all in and watch him as he bristled past you, heading to the direction of your shared closet, grabbing his duffel bag and stuffing it with whatever he could get his hands on.

“Wait, where are you going?” your voice was small, hands shaking while you clutched the end of your shirt.

“I can’t even look at you right now,”

“So is this it? Is that all you have to say?” You pleaded, a part of you still hoping he’d deny everything you saw. That it was just all it ever was, a dream. A fantasy from another life. That it didn’t mean anything. That he’d pick you, the one who was here, someone he could actually build a future with. Over a dead woman, a woman who belonged to another decade, another lifetime.

“Since you’re so good at getting into people’s minds, why don’t you tell me?” He taunted, turning his back to you, roughly shoving his toiletries in his bag.

“That’s not fair, Steve!”

“Fair? You want to talk about being fair when you broke my trust! You promised, Y/N. Does that only mean something when it’s convenient to you?” He turned around this time, nostrils flaring, finger pointing offensively at you again. You were so close to him now, could practically feel the heat radiating off his body. And you were scared. You were scared to lose him. Because you knew whatever happened tonight couldn’t be reversed. The things he said, the things you did, there was no going around it anymore.

“Do you want me to say I don’t love Peggy anymore, is that it? Is that what you wanna hear? Because I can’t. I still love her!” His voice boomed around you, shaking you to your core. Fresh, hot tears trailed down your cheeks. You were helpless. Broken.

As soon as the words left him, he knew he’d regret it. At the way you looked, so small and vulnerable, hugging your arms to your chest, his eyes softened, “Y/N…” he moved towards you, hands out to comfort you but you backed away.

Shaking your head vehemently, you took another step back. You didn’t want his touch, didn’t want him near you.

“No, no. Don’t.” you stayed a hand up to stop him. “It’s alright. You’re right,”

“Y/N, that’s not--”

“I think you should leave.” you pointed to the bag already in his hand. Your resolve, sure and strong.

“Y/N, I didn’t--” he tried again, shaking his head. How could he take those words back? Did he not mean them too? God help him but he loved them both.

“Steve, please stop. Just stop. Don’t make this any harder than it already is,” you pleaded, not knowing what else he wanted from you. You gave him an out; clear and easy. Wasn’t that enough? Did he have to hurt you even more?

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” He let out on a sigh, shaking his head. “But sweetheart, please don’t look at me like that,” You looked like a terrified deer, ready to run at the first sign of danger and he couldn’t bear that it was directed at him. He could handle your tenacity, your fire, anything else but the defeated look on your face. It made his heart ache.

He tried again, speaking gently, “Y/N, if you want me to leave for the night, I will. I think you might be right, we need some space after this, clear our heads,”

This time, he went near you and you let him, you let his hands hold your arms like he’s done in past arguments. You let him look you straight in the eye like he’s done so many times before. You let him say his piece, already knowing where it was headed like the back of your hand. You operated like this. Clockwork. When one pushed, the other shoved.

One last time.

“But promise me you’ll be here in the morning to talk. You went inside my head, Y/N, but I wanna work through this. I love you,” he said it like he meant it, his heart on his sleeve but you weren’t so sure you believed him anymore.

“You know I love you, right?” He asked just like the last time. Clockwork.

No. I don’t.

You nodded your head.

-----------------

He tossed and turned that night, the look of hurt on your face scarred in his memory. He knew he shouldn’t have left, knew he should’ve fought to stay.

It was true that he was furious but any animosity he felt immediately simmered after the mention of Peggy. He was way out of line. He wanted to apologize, to pull you into his arms and kiss away the bitter words he spoke but he was still so shaken about what you had done, what you had seen, and so he figured he should let it rest first, giving you both time and space to calm down. Everything looked better in the morning, right?

But your face came unbidden in his mind, he could still remember the exact moment you closed yourself off to him, your eyes hauntingly empty and hollow, shoulders hunched, arms instinctively wrapped to yourself. So small and vulnerable.

He should’ve stayed, dammit!

He let out a grunt as he stared up at the ceiling. He still couldn’t believe you used your abilities on him, couldn’t believe you’d go so far when you’d never ever shied away from asking him anything. Heck, you’d basically proposed to him with all your nagging of starting a family.

Why did you have to see that?

He hissed and shook his head, guilt gnawing in his stomach. Your power was able to force out his deepest dreams and desires. But was that the whole truth? If he hadn’t woken up and you’d stuck a little longer then you would’ve known just how scared and confused he was. What you saw was the Steve who still clung to the past, the part of him that wanted to go back, yearned to go back because it was safer, it was where he truly belonged.

But then again, he wasn’t that same man anymore, was he? Not fully anyway. In more ways than one, he had moved on. For the past couple of years, he did, in fact, envision a future with you. He was going to propose until the snap happened and then, everything changed. He saw his friends, his family, gone to dust. He could still hear Bucky’s echoing words, calling out to him. All those lost souls vanished as if they never existed while he stood, helpless and useless. Why spare him again? Why did he have to go through it all again? Didn’t he have enough pain and loss in one lifetime?

And so he started thinking of the past. The good ol’ days, if you could even really call it that. It started out as a tiny flicker of curiosity. You both had just found a new apartment in New York, it wasn’t all that hard with the sudden vacancies. You were standing in the middle of the room, hands on your hips while he sat at the edge of the bed his head bowed, elbows resting on his knees.

“Steve, we need to start thinking of the future. I know it’s hard but they’re not coming back and we can’t keep doing what we’re doing. We can get away from all this, you know, start a new life. Don’t you want that too?”

He swallowed a lump in his throat. He wanted to fight, to try again and again until he got everyone back. He was grieving, angry, and above all, guilty. Why couldn’t he do what he was made for in the first place? How did he let all of this happen? And why, for god’s sake, why did he have to survive while the others vanished?

But you were right. Of course, you were right. The ever practical and optimistic you. He looked at you with tired eyes, not wanting to argue, and nodded his head. He still had you, that was a win. For every shitty thing that happened since, at least you were alive and he wouldn’t trade that for the world but some jaded, cynical part of him questioned how long that would last. The universe clearly had a bone to pick with him and it was only a matter of time before you were taken from him too and that scared the living shit out of him.

And so he had started to wonder what if?

What if he never had to wake up from the ice? What if he never had to crash the plane in the first place? What if he was where he was really supposed to be?

All those questions drifted down into one person, the one that got away. Peggy. She was his link to the past, everything that was sweet and wonderful. The dance he missed, the future he wanted when everything settled down into peace after the war. Peace. As ironic as that sounded, she reminded him of peace. The little dream he had in the back of his head whenever he infiltrated a nazi base camp. Every mission, every fight, he would think one more of this and the war would be over, one more and I get back to her. Peace.

He craved for that peace so much, he didn’t even realize what he had been doing. He lived in that dream, longing for the time he could never get back. All the while you were hurting, so desperately trying to cling on to him while he slipped into himself. You needed him but he continued to chase the life he lost, for all his talk of moving on. He didn’t even realize how his fear of losing you has led him down to the very verge of it and now, he was anxious and afraid. So so afraid. You wouldn’t leave him, would you? God, he’d do anything, drop everything, to follow you.

That realization just made his head spin, was he really willing to let everything go just like that? Of course, he was. There was no question about it. Nothing else mattered if it meant losing you. It was a damned shame he only realized that now.

We can work through this, he thought to himself. He couldn’t let you go, wouldn’t let you go. It didn’t even matter what you had done anymore, not right now, not when all he wanted was for you to know everything, that above all, he was choosing you. He loves you.

I’ll make this work. We’ll make this work.

----------------------------------

He stared at his friend’s face, her red hair already outgrowing the blonde curls that framed her frowning face. She couldn’t believe it. Hell, even he didn’t believe it. How could you?

Before the sun had even risen, he was already up, tying his shoelaces with his jittery hands. He had never been so nervous in his life. Not even when he had to crash his own plane, with that came a sense of doom and certainty but this? This was torture. This was hell.

What was he going to say? How was he going to explain himself? What could he do to make you stay?

What you had done the night before, invading his most private thoughts, had been pushed to the side. In his heart, he had already forgiven you, understood why you had to do what you did. He knew you, the kind of person you were and you would never have done it had you not thought it was necessary. And with everything that he’s done and what you heard, could he really judge you for it?

He rushed into the apartment, his heart already heavy. He couldn’t find it in himself to wait until you woke up and instead gave a tentative, “Y/N?” as he poked his head into the bedroom door, the sight of it knocking the air right out of him.

No, no, no, no, no.

The neatly made up bed greeted him, curtains drawn back to illuminate the empty room. His heart dropped to his stomach, “No, no, no, no, no,”

“Y/N?” he shouted into the room, somehow hoping he was mistaken, that you were still here, that you’d show up.

Did you really leave him? Could you really have done that?

He ran to the bathroom, calling out to you, but it was the same as he had left it. Except all of your stuff was gone. Your toiletries by the sink, all the little hair ties you kept lying around. Gone.

How could you do this to him? How could you leave without saying goodbye?

All the clothes he had always folded for you after you tossed them in the closet weren’t there anymore. Any trace of you was now gone. He let out a curse, his cold hand fumbling for his phone in his pocket. No messages, no calls.

“Come on, pick up,” He prayed into the phone. Please, please, please. When the monotonous operator answered, he let out a shout,

“Fuck!”

Throwing his phone unto the bed, he realized even the clock he had thrown in his temper had been cleaned away, a letter laid down on where it was supposed to be.

He picked it up quickly, his breathing rapid at the two simple words scrawled in your distinct handwriting.

I’m sorry.

Crumbling the paper in his fist, he shakily put it to his pale lips. Breathe...

What were you thinking? You couldn’t have even left a number to contact you? How was he supposed to find you now? He felt himself grow weak in the knees. He knew the type of training you had with the X-men, if you didn’t want to found, you wouldn’t.

Had he lost you forever?

Hands shaking at the thought, he ran. Ran to get away from his emotions. Lost, angry and hurt. What the hell had you done?

What the hell had you done?

Natasha let out an exhale, bringing him out of his reverie. The look of hurt still evident on her face, she couldn’t believe you’d just leave without saying goodbye.

“If there’s one thing I know is that she loves you. You need to fix this, Steve,”

Before he could even reply, the front gate’s access flashed before her. Mindlessly swiping it, they both turned to the monitor, their minds still preoccupied on where you could be. The man standing outside, waving his arms about looked eerily familiar but that couldn’t be...

Scott Lang?

Oh god, what now?

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #avengers #marvel #marvel fic #captain america #captain america angst

992 notes · View notes

emwritesfootball · 3 years ago

Text

Dirty Little Secret | Dominic Calvert-Lewin

It's midnight PST which means I'm so far past the deadline for @footballffbarbiex's Summer Writing Challenge but I don't really care. Please enjoy the millionth version of 'sneaking around with a rival' but with DCL. This one's for the babes: @sweetlikesugar9 @dclsbaby @domspeach

Word Count: 3,610

Warnings: light mentions of smut, sneaking around

- - -

Your phone felt heavy in your pocket. You wanted so badly to pull it out and reread the text you’d been sent an hour ago, but then Jordan would be suspicious and you didn’t want to try to cobble together some half-assed explanation that would ultimately end in disaster.

“Are you listening to me?” Jordan asked, huffing your name in frustration. “I swear, you’ve been spacy for the last week. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, rolling your eyes. Jordan gave you a disbelieving look, so you elaborated, “Work has been kicking my ass and I’m annoyed, okay? I know it’ll pass, but I’d just like it if you let me handle it on my own.”

Jordan’s face softened. “I’m sorry. And I won’t, alright?” When you nodded, he continued, “But you know that if you ever need me to step in and use my name, I will.”

“I know,” you said, giving him a teary-eyed smile. “You know how much I don’t want that, but if it comes down to it, I’ll let you know.”

“It’s just...you’re my little sister, and I worry about you.” Jordan wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into a hug.

“Yeah, yeah - I appreciate it.” You paused, finally remembering the conversation from earlier. “Wait, you were saying something about England?”

Jordan smiled, launching into the conversation. “I just got the call from Southgate today. He told me I’ll be part of this upcoming England squad.”

“What?! Jordan, that’s incredible!” You squealed, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks. I was hoping I’d get the call-up, but with each camp, you never know. And I get older every year and-”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you scoffed, waving him off. “You’ve done so much for the club and you deserve this. Take the win and move on.”

“I hate it when you’re right, you know.”

You giggled, shoving him playfully. “It feels weird to be the one dispensing life advice to my older brother, so don’t worry, it’s just as weird for me, too.”

You left Jordan’s place a little while later, promising to help him plan an England get-together once the rest of the squad was announced.

Once you were back home, you finally pulled up the text you’d been both excited for and dreading about replying to.

Dominic: When can I see you again?

Just as you started typing, the three dots on his end popped up and you couldn’t help the rush of excitement that pooled in your belly when his latest text came through.

Dominic: I just got good news. Come over and celebrate?

You: I’m on my way

***

The moment Dom opened his front door, his lips were on yours. He pinned you against the door, kissing you hungrily as his hands slid up your shirt. You moaned into his mouth, loving the way his body fit against yours as he swallowed the sound.

“What…” Your thought was cut off as Dom sucked on the sensitive spot on your neck. “What was the good news?”u

“Later,” Dom hummed, nibbling on your earlobe. “I wanna celebrate first.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” You giggled, the sound quickly turning to a breathy whimper as one of Dom’s hands slid between your legs. “Fuck, Dom! It makes sense - please just take me to bed.”

Dom smirked, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bedroom. He threw you down on the bed, kneeling between your legs as he started to undress you. It had only been a little over a month since the two of you started sleeping together, but neither of you could get enough of each other.

Your name was on his lips as he sucked a mark into your hip, watching as you dug your heels into the mattress while he kissed his way up your inner thighs before sucking on your clit and making you cry out. “You’re always so responsive for me,” he praised, chuckling as he slid two fingers inside you. “So sexy.”

“Please, Dom!” You whimpered, burying your fingers in his curls. “Please make me cum already!”

He responded to your pleas, flipping you over onto your stomach and driving his cock into you. One hand was around your throat, the other smacking your ass as pure filth spewed from his mouth with every thrust. Dom made you feel dirty in the best possible ways and it wasn’t long before you were cumming around his cock, feeling his cum coat your inner walls as he released his own orgasm inside you.

“So, what’s the news?” You asked as you cuddled with Dom, your head on your chest with one hand tracing patterns across his forearm.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot - I got called up to the England squad for this upcoming run of matches.”

He said it so casually that you almost didn’t register what he’d said. “Wait, what?”

“I got another call-up!”

Your stomach bottomed out and you thought you were gonna be sick. “Dom, that’s amazing!” You said, hoping he didn’t notice how preoccupied you sounded.

“Thank you!” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, a much more intimate gesture than the two of you usually did, but you didn’t question it. “You’ll come see me play, right?”

“Of course,” you promised, hoping you sounded sincere.

When he drifted off to sleep, you were still up, your mind racing as you tried to figure out how you were going to tell Dom that you were Jordan Henderson’s baby sister.

***

Anfield. Last Spring.

You flashed your Friends and Family pass to the staff, feeling a bit awkward as you looked for Rebecca and the kids. It wasn’t often that you used the ticket Jordan purchased, preferring the season tickets you’d gotten with friends ages ago on the off-chance you were recognized. The only time you did was for Derby matches, and today was no exception; the ‘Henderson 14’ burning a hole in your back as you took your seat.

The whistle blew and the match began. You were as nervous as you always were during Derby matches, your heart in your throat every time Jordan got the ball. You were always worried something would happen to him on the pitch, what with the countless injuries he’d had over the years.

You cheered along with the rest of the spectators when Mo put one in the back of Pickford’s net a couple minutes outside of the 20th. Richarlison scored moments before the end of the first half, tying it up before the start of the second.

There was a penalty call early on in the second half and your heart stopped as you watched Jordan step up to take it. He hadn’t been in good form to take a pen all season, having missed three of his four pens so far, and you peeked through your fingers, hoping the ball would slot right into the back of the net.

...

It didn’t.

It didn’t, and you were devastated. Suddenly, you didn’t want to be wearing your brother’s jersey anymore. You felt sick as all the friends and family of your brother’s teammates gave you sympathetic pats and hugs while the match wore on.

When Mo scored his second of the night, you screamed until you were hoarse. It wasn’t long after that and the final whistle was blowing and the match ended 2-1 in favour of Liverpool. You hugged Jordan tightly when he finally appeared, giving him a small smile. “Sorry about your pen.”

He stiffened and you instantly knew you’d hit a nerve. Sometimes, he was able to laugh these things off, but tonight apparently wasn’t one of those nights. “Fuck off.”

“You’ll get the next one, I’m sure.” You winced internally as the words came out of your mouth and Jordan’s expression darkened.

Your name was an angry growl on his lips as he said, “If you’re trying to make me feel better, just don’t. I don’t need your sunshine and rainbows opinion - if I want it, I’ll ask, got it?”

His condescending tone ignited your own nerve and you got in his face. “Go to hell, Jordan,” you hissed, your eyes involuntarily welling with tears at the angry confrontation. You turned on your heel and stormed off, ignoring Rebecca’s pleas for you to come back.

You sat in your car, waiting for the tears to subside. It wasn’t often that you fought with him, and to make matters worse, you’d been staying with him for a bit while you looked for a place of your own, so you couldn’t even avoid him at home.

Instead of going home, you headed to your favourite pub. It was low key, and you knew there probably wouldn’t be too many people in there so you could drink in peace. You changed out of the jersey, throwing on a t-shirt you found in the backseat of your car, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself than usual.

“Can I buy the next?” A man’s voice asked, and you turned to find Dominic Calvert-Lewin sitting on the barstool next to yours.

“Sure,” you said, giving him a small smile. “As long as you let me buy the one after that.”

“You’ve heard, I take it?” Dom gave you a sheepish smile, ducking his head and looking away.

“I was there. Thought you had it for a minute there when that pen didn’t go in.”

“Me, too. I had a couple good shots in there, but none of them ended up going in.”

“I saw.” Dom gave you a look at your comment and the two of you burst into giggles. “Sorry, I just had to say it.”

“Clearly, you know who I am,” he started, his gaze raking over your body. “Can I at least get your name? You look so familiar...”

You debated giving him your middle name or a fake name altogether, but ultimately gave him your real name, conveniently leaving out your surname. He rewarded you with a full-blown smile that you felt all the way down to your toes; a smile that made you think about what it would be like to kiss those lips.

A couple hours later, and you didn’t have to wonder what it felt like to kiss him. His lips were on yours in the back of the Uber as the two of you headed back to his place. Another hour after that, and you were discovering all the other things his mouth and hands could do, loving the way his body felt against yours.

When you left in the morning, you felt like you had a secret that was only yours to keep - and Dom’s, of course - but this was you sticking it to your brother by sleeping with one of his rival club’s players while also getting some much-needed sex.

A week later, you were grinning down at your phone as you read Dom’s latest text.

Dom: So, when can I see you again?

***

Jordan’s House, Present Day

“We’ve got everything we need, right?” Jordan asked, frantically looking around his kitchen. The counter was fully-stocked with all the alcohol he could possibly need, there was enough food to feed an army, and everything was as it should be.

“Yes,” Rebecca confirmed, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a kiss. You shut your eyes and made a face, still not used to seeing your brother be intimate with his wife. “Everything’s going to be great. The team should be arriving in about an hour, so don’t go too crazy waiting for them, okay?”

Jordan nodded and you laughed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do that. “Well, if neither of you need me, I’m gonna go nap in the guest room,” you announced. “Wake me if I sleep through my alarm?”

“Sure.”

You went up to the guest room, setting your alarm to give yourself half an hour to get ready for the party.

***

The party was on by the time Dom walked through the door. Someone put a beer in his hands and he made the rounds, catching up with players he hadn’t called teammates since the last call-up.

“Hey!” Hendo shouted, waving at Dom from his lounge chair by the pool. “Calvert-Lewin, as I live and breathe. How are you?”

Dom brought it in for a hug, laughing. “I’m good, I’m good.”

“I’d ask how you’re coping with losing to us yet again in the Derby, but I’m sure you had no problem finding some willing girl to console you.”

“Now that you mention it, I’ve been seeing this girl for a few months now. Hooked up with her the night we lost to you and haven’t really looked back.”

“Good for you. She coming to the matches?”

Dom shrugged. “Not sure yet. Haven’t really done much talking, if you know what I mean.”

Hendo smirked. “Nice.”

Just as Dom was about to say more, Rebecca came running over. “Jordan, have you seen your sister? I think we’re running out of drinks and she said she’d run to the store if we needed her to and well, we need her to.”

“Is she not up from her nap?” Hendo asked, his brows furrowing when Rebecca shrugged. “Okay, can you go see if she’s awake? I’ve kind of got my hands full.”

“Yeah, I-”

“Mummy!” One of the kids ran up to Rebecca, drawing her attention away. “Dom! Good to see you! Can you go wake my sister-in-law?”

“Sure. Where is she?”

Hendo gave him directions and Dom was off, searching for the guest bedroom.

“Hello?” He asked, lightly knocking on the closed door. When he got no response, he turned the handle and opened the door. “Hendo’s sister?”

***

Shit. You’d slept through your alarm and now someone was waking you up. And to make matters worse, they were calling you ‘Hendo’s sister’. “What?” You asked groggily, shifting.

“Your brother needs you.”

The voice sounded familiar but you were too tired to figure out why. “Okay. Can you turn on the light?” The sound of the switch being flipped and the light hit you. “Oh, fuck, that’s bright!” You covered your eyes, blinking rapidly to try to get used to the light.

You heard your name being whispered incredulously and you realized it was Dom standing in front of you.

***

Dom couldn’t believe it. Here you were, standing - well, technically sitting in bed - in front of him and you turned out to be Jordan Henderson’s little sister. “You’re…” He trailed off, unable to say the words.

“Yeah.” You looked down at your hands, not wanting to see the look on his face. “Jordan Henderson is my older brother.” You heard the door shut and you looked up, not expecting him to still be standing in front of you.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Dom asked, his expression blank as he crossed his arm and leaned against the door. “You’ve had plenty of chances to tell me and you haven’t. Why?”

“I just… I don’t know.” You sighed, looking up at the ceiling as you struggled to find composure. “Everybody treats me differently when they find out who my brother is, so I don’t exactly go around telling everyone I meet that my brother is… who he is.”

“But we’re sleeping together! Hell, I’ve got you in my bed more than half the nights of the week and you still didn’t think to tell me?!”

“Dom!” You hissed, fear coursing through your veins. You didn’t want anyone to overhear him even though you knew they were probably too busy with the party. “I didn’t think to tell you because I didn’t think we were that serious!”

Dom looked furious. His jaw clenched and he stormed over to you, kneeling on the bed and taking your face in his hands. He kissed you hard, pinning you underneath him and all you could do was loop your arms around his neck and kiss him with everything you had. “How’s that for serious?” He asked, breathing heavily as he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m here, kissing you in your brother’s house where anyone could discover us, and you don’t think I’m serious.”

“I-I get it now,” you stuttered, smiling at him. “Can we just wait a little while before we tell Jordan about us?”

“Just as long as we tell him before we have to go back to being rivals, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave him one last kiss. “Now you’re really gonna have to leave because I’m pretty sure Jordan didn’t send you here to come into the guest room and kiss me senseless.”

Dom chuckled at that. “He definitely didn’t. Pretty sure Rebecca was saying something about needing you to run and grab more alcohol, too? But the point is that we need to get you out of this bed and to the right people.”

***

You couldn’t stop staring at him. Dom was right across the room, chatting it up with Rice and Mount, laughing with the two footballers. He caught your gaze, giving you a subtle wink before turning back to say something to Rice. You watched him pull his phone out, your own vibrating in your back pocket moments later.

Dom: Meet me in the guest bedroom… Five minutes

You tried to keep the smile off your face, but it was impossible. “Who’s the guy?” Came Rebecca’s voice over your shoulder.

You gasped, hoping she didn’t see Dom’s name at the top of the contacts list before you shut it off. “Uh, nobody? Just a guy I’m sleeping with.”

Rebecca gave you a look. “Just a guy?” She rolled her eyes. “Not with that lovey-dovey look in your eyes, he’s not.”

“Okay, fine,” you sighed. “He’s not just a guy, but I’m not ready to introduce him to you and Jordan, okay? He’s just...not someone I would usually date and I don’t want Jordan to lose his shit, especially with these matches coming up.”

“I see,” Rebecca said wisely, giving you a knowing look. “Just don’t wait too long, because Dominic Calvert-Lewin looks like the kind of man who won’t wait around forever.”

“How did you-?” You asked, incredulous. “Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.”

Rebecca laughed. “Don’t worry - I won’t tell Jordan. That’s something you’ve gotta do.”

***

Two Weeks Later

“We can’t keep doing this,” Dom murmured in-between kisses in one of the empty rooms of Wembley. “Tomorrow’s the last match in this run of friendlies and I wanna catch Hendo on his good side when the two of us aren’t rivals.”

You giggled, the sound morphing into a moan as he kissed your neck. “After the match tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

Dom pulled away, a serious look on his face. “I’m serious. If you don’t tell him after the match tomorrow, I’m not sure I’ll be able to continue this.”

The pit of dread grew in your stomach. You wanted to tell Jordan but you’d never shown an interest in or dated any footballers before, let alone one of his rivals. It was going to be hard to convince him that you were serious about Dom, and for the first time, you realized you were serious about him.

~~~

The day of the match, you were in the stands in your ‘Henderson 8’ kit. The ‘Calvert-Lewin 18’ was underneath, your body tense with the anticipation - fear? - of telling your brother that you and Dom were seeing each other.

All your nerves went out the window the moment Dom came on and scored after less than five minutes of being on the pitch. You were on your feet with the rest of the stadium, cheering on your man as he celebrated with your brother.

The friendly ended England’s way and you were celebrating it like they’d won the World Cup. Without a second thought, you launched yourself into Dom’s arms, both of you giddy as he spun you around before setting you down on the ground and kissing you breathless.

“What the hell?!” Came Jordan’s voice, snapping you and Dom out of your own little world.

“Jordan, it’s-” you started, but your brother was furious.

“No, I don’t wanna hear it. The two of you?!” He glared at Dom. “At my party, were you talking about my sister? To me?! You’ve got some nerve, Dominic.”

Dom held up his hands. “I didn’t know she was your sister at the time, I swear!”

“It’s true: he didn’t,” you backed up your man, threading your fingers through his in a nonverbal show of support. “I knew who he was when I started sleeping with him, but he didn’t know who I was.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what I hate more: that that’s actually believable or that I’m starting to be okay with this.”

“Really?” You asked, your eyes wide. You and Dom shared a look.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to completely love this - at least not for a year or more - but you better not hurt her, Dominic. I’m serious.”

Dom squeezed your hand, nodding with a serious expression. “Yes, sir.”

You held back your giggle at Dom’s response, not wanting to ruin your brother’s good mood. You let go of Dom’s hand to go over and hug Jordan, a bright smile on your face. “Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me; just make sure he doesn’t hurt you so I don’t have to hurt him.”

An hour later when you met Dom, you couldn’t stop smiling, making sure to stop in front of Wembley to kiss him one more time before he took you out on a proper date in public.

#my writing: dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagines #dominic calvert lewin oneshot #dominic calvert lewin one shot #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin x reader #dcl imagines #dcl imagine #dcl oneshot #dcl one shot #dcl x reader

99 notes · View notes

ellewriteswrongs · 4 years ago

Text

layers of love - prinxiety

1.8k words

ao3 / ko-fi / previous work

summary: self-indulgent fluffy prinxiety, very domestic, some shrek references, y'all know the drill

cw: mild swearing, slight innuendo/suggestive dialogue

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Virgil asked from where he laid against his boyfriend’s chest. Roman’s hand stilled as he played with Virgil’s hair.

“Hmm?” He hummed, continuing to rock them with one leg hanging out of their shared hammock. “‘Course you can.”

Virgil made something akin to a purr as he laid in the sun, his hoodie discarded for once.

“When you first said you loved me…was it scary?”

Roman’s brow furrowed at the question, leaning back to try and see the other man’s face.

“Scary? I…I guess I don’t know. I think, in the moment, it just felt right,” he spoke with a soft smile, pausing only to plant a kiss on the other man’s forehead. “But ever since I realized it…every time I thought about saying it, I was terrified.”

When Virgil only shifted, tightening his grip around Roman’s waist, the latter continued.

“I was so worried you’d be freaked out and think I was moving too fast and the last thing I ever wanted was to scare you off, but I…” he trailed off, letting out an amused chuckle. “I was only ever afraid of losing you. Loving you has never scared me.”

Virgil hummed, leaning up to steal a lazy kiss from the corner of Roman’s lips.

“But what about all those stupid stories you like?” He smirked, folding his arms over Roman’s chest as he rested his chin on them. “Quite a bit of pressure there, Princey.”

Roman chuckled, twirling a particular strand of hair around his finger.

“Ahh yes, those stupid fairytales that you make me read to you all the time,” he teased, earning a playful slap on his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I have more than enough understanding of when dramatic proclamations of my undying love are unwanted.”

Virgil just exhaled a short chuckle, reaching to pull Roman’s hand out of his hair and over to hold it against his cheek, first pressing a kiss into the palm.

“Isn’t that why it’s such a big deal though?” He mused, his eyes half-focused on the beach around them. “Like, isn’t the whole point of falling in love so that something changes once you say it? And…and nothing changed when we said it.”

Roman stiffed a little bit from under him. “Did you…want something to change?”

No. No, of course he didn’t. That was the best part about it.

He told Roman as such.

“I guess I just…always thought something would change, even if we didn’t really want it to,” he explained, closing his eyes as Roman started playing with his hair again. “But I like how we are. How we’ve always been.”

“How we’ve always been? I don’t know about you, stormcloud, but I think things have definitely changed for the better.”

Virgil huffed with a small smile.

“Alright, fine,” he said, his cheeks hot. “I’m glad we changed even if it was just a little.”

Roman chuckled, his chest vibrating comfortingly against Virgil’s head.

“Yeah, I think I like you a little bit more these days, sunshine.”

Virgil scoffed, jabbing Roman’s side with his elbow.

“Thanks, babe," he spoke teasingly. “What glowing praise."

Roman only wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tight, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other holding him by the waist.

"My darling dark and stormy knight,” Roman cooed dramatically, peppering kisses all over his face until the other started laughing. "The angel from my nightmares, oh how I adore you with everything I am."

Virgil smiled, his gaze soft and fond as he looked up at the man he loved.

"Mhm, that's more like it," he smirked, stealing a kiss. "I love you, dork."

Roman bent down to lean their foreheads together.

“What's with all the introspection, my love?"

"Good word, babe."

“Shut up, I'm just worried about you," Roman grumbled, tucking Virgil's head back under his chin.

"You're worried about me? Because I’m talking about being in love with you?" Virgil asked, taking one of Roman's hands to fiddle with his fingers.

"Well, you just don't...talk about it. We both don’t,” Roman explained, his voice vibrating through his chest. "And I'm glad we are, it's just...not what we do."

Virgil smiled, sighing contentedly.

"Nothing's wrong, I promise,” he assured him. "I guess I've just been thinking a lot lately."

"Oh wow, congrats," Roman teased with sarcastic claps.

“Shut up, oh my god,” Virgil complained, not even trying to hide his laughter. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"Alright, alright, I concede," Roman smiled, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"I just kind of realized that I've been feeling different lately,” he started, causing Roman to immediately stiffen and lean back to see Virgil's face. Virgil smirked, rolling his eyes fondly. “I just told you nothing's wrong, chill babe."

"You telling me to chill out is quite ironic, methinks," Roman teased, relaxing back into the hammock. “It's not my fault you're rubbing off on me, Frank Fear-o.”

Virgil snorted a laugh at the nickname before he continued.

"Ever since we said it, I've just felt... better," he spoke, a soft smile on his face. "I don't even know how to explain it, it's just...better. I get headaches less, when I get anxious, it turns into panic attacks like half as much."

He paused as Roman's lips met his temple.

"And I think the strangest thing is," he spoke, propping himself up on his forearm to look down at his boyfriend

below him. “When you told me you loved me, I didn't doubt it for a second."

Roman gave a short, watery chuckle; his eyes tearing up just a little.

"Even just a year ago, I wouldn't've believed anybody who said that to me but you," he paused, reaching to squish Roman's cheeks with one hand until they both laughed. "I knew you'd never lie to me, but more than anything, I felt it."

He leaned in, intending to only steal a quick kiss before it swiftly escalated.

“Who knew you were such a sap?" Roman teased, breathing heavily as they eventually broke apart.

“Says you, Romeo."

“Oh, I wear that badge with pride, darling," he beamed. "According to Thomas' Twitter, I'm his 'simp' side."

Virgil snorted, laying back down as he leaned into Roman's shoulder.

"Okay, they're definitely right about that one,” he mumbled, ruffling the other’s curly hair affectionately. “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger and you can’t even deny it.”

Roman grabbed one of said fingers and brought it to his lips, planting a dramatic, drawn-out kiss with the most exaggerated noise he could.

“But of course!” He bellowed, earning a fond eye roll from his boyfriend. “For it is my only duty to bestow upon you all of the love one can possibly muster.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got a few other duties, babe,” he challenged with a smirk. “Like maybe the concept pitch for the next scripted video that you haven’t done, or the notes for the editors, or the fact that Thomas hasn’t even picked up his ukulele since last year, or—“

“Okay! Okay, fine, I can’t devote my whole life to smothering you forever,” he agreed exasperatedly. “But if I could, I would.”

Virgil chuckled, folding his arms over Roman’s chest and resting his chin on top.

“Hmm, yeah I think I’d hate that.”

Roman gave an almost comical pout, pulling out the puppy dog eyes.

“Nope, absolutely not, you’re not getting me with that shit,” Virgil asserted, trying to maintain a firm tone as he came dangerously close to breaking into a smile. “Smother me twenty-four seven and I’ll dump you on the spot.”

Roman pulled a disbelieving face.

“You really think I’m buying that?” He smirked. “That you’d dump me for spoiling you absolutely rotten with my sweetness.”

He knew full well what he was doing.

“I need my space, princess,” he spoke, putting on a suave tone that he knew he wasn’t pulling off by the giggles that came from his boyfriend. “I gotta’ keep up the aesthetic.”

Roman brought Virgil’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Alright, alright, I respect the commitment,” he spoke, punctuated by kisses from Virgil’s hand up to his shoulder. “It’s so tragic that Mr. Misery Business would rather brood than swoon.”

“Who says I can’t have both?” He grinned. “I’m multi-faceted these days, babe. I have layers.”

Roman snorted a laugh, ducking his head right by Virgil’s ear.

“Layers,” he spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, his hands squeezing Virgil’s sides. “Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. We both have layers.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil cackled with laughter. “I hate it. I hate you, never speak to me again.”

Roman smirked, unfazed.

“But Virgil, that’s what friends do, they forgive each other.”

“One more word and you’re not getting any kisses for the rest of the week.”

“It’s already Friday.”

“Well, I don’t exactly want to punish myself in the process.”

Roman flushed a little at the rare admittance of affection.

“You think you couldn’t go a full week without any kisses?”

“I mean,” Virgil spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to find out.”

He answered with a chaste kiss to the other man’s temple. “I guess the world may never know.”

“If Logan were here right now, he’d probably try to get us to find out.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I never listen to the ol’ poindexter anyways,” Roman grinned, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ahh, yes, my favorite thing about you,” Virgil teased with a sly smirk. “How you’d rather be eternally petty than have an ounce of rational thought in that pretty little head of yours.”

Roman gave an offended scoff.

“You know what, I’m just going to ignore everything you just said in favor of the fact that you called me pretty,” he defended with a humph.

“Oh, you like that?” Virgil continued teasing. “As if you don’t already know you're pretty.”

Roman feigned his innocence.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea, darling. Perhaps you’ll have to enlighten me on what you find so appealing,” he drawled, his voice syrupy sweet in a way that would’ve made Virgil weak in the knees if they weren’t currently lying on top of each other. “My cute button nose? Thick, wavy locks? Maybe my taut, round buttocks?”

Virgil barked out a laugh, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation.

“Pull another Shrek quote out of that ass and I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to sit for a week—a full week.”

Roman froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Is…is that a threat or a promise?”

Virgil just groaned, shoving him until the hammock teetered and he panicked, clinging back onto the other man. “You’ve been spending too much time with your brother.”

“You may be right, but this is certainly more fun, I must admit,” he sighed happily.

“Just shut up and take a nap, princess.”

“As you wish, my love.”

#prinxiety #my work #my writing #ts prinxiety #ts roman #ts virgil #sanders sides #tss #tss virgil #tss roman #sanders side fic #roman sanders #virgil sanders

146 notes · View notes

heliads · 4 years ago

Text

Too Cold

Based on this request: “imagine with Bucky where you're on a mission in the mountains but due to the weather you need to stay in a little cabin for the night but it's terribly cold. He lights a fire but then he offers you his sweater. You're both getting closer (you have a crush as well on each other), so you kinda forget about the mission and just enjoy the time together as you also share a meaningful kiss?”

masterlist

“It’s going to be cold. Siberia, midwinter, ski resort? It’ll be freezing.” Bucky fixes you with an expecting gaze. You return the stare. “Buck, I’ve been on missions for years. I’ve trained and fought and killed in some of the worst places on the planet. I think I can handle a little snow.” Bucky shrugs. “I hope that’s true, because I’d like to focus on the mission, and being able to laugh at you for being wrong would distract me.”

You toss a glare his way. “You are a horrible friend.” Bucky just grins. “Maybe so.” You roll your eyes, then turn your attention back to the guidebooks and manila file folders strewn across the table in front of you. In less than 24 hours, you and Bucky will embark on a mission to ice-cold Siberia, posing as a pair of newlyweds at a ski resort. Such an elaborate scheme would usually never be a part of the Avengers’ repertoire, but the couple you’re investigating is so wily and tricky that you have no other choice.

The targets in question are a man and a woman, Sara and Henri Antonovich. They were noted members of HYDRA before the organization’s collapse, and their names are frequently listed among the visitors of certain Siberian military bases, especially ones containing Winter Soldiers. There have been rumored sightings of them around the area, and now you have proof that they’ll be staying at this particular resort in the hopes of meeting someone and making a deal. So, you and Bucky must go there as well, to catch them in the act.

The plane ride is uneventful, and you touch down in Siberia without too many worries. Bucky, already prepared to act the part of the dutiful husband, links your hand through his, leaning close as if to whisper a declaration of love. Instead, he tells you that a car is waiting, driven by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who will give you fake IDs and deliver you to your assigned rental cabin. Such is the romantic life of an undercover agent.

By the time you get there, you’re shivering. The car was cold, the journey up the icy walkway was cold, the time spent standing in the freezing winter air whilst you try to find your key was cold, and this cabin, unfortunately, is also cold. You walk through the door, hoping to find some last remnants of heating, but you are sorely disappointed. You walk briskly over to the thermostat, cranking it up and muttering something under your breath about stingy S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who wouldn’t even let you be warm in your own undercover house.

Bucky, noticing your arms wrapped tightly around you, grins. “What happened to your years of experience? Are they not helping you against the cold?” You make a face at his back, but Bucky does not see it and continues checking out some data file disguised as a paperback that he brought with him.

You purse your lips together. It’s strange- you’ve known Bucky for a while now, long enough to consider him a friend. The two of you have these moments like companionship, just like now, with jokes being exchanged and laughter bubbling out. But then Bucky seems to remember something, and it’s like a switch is flipped. He stays quiet and doesn’t open his mouth for a long time after that. You’re not sure what he’s thinking about, or why he only seems to want to talk to you in small doses, but it still feels like an ever-growing thorn in your side.

Especially since you have the unfortunate habit of crushing on him. Of course you had to fall in love with the one guy who doesn’t feel the need to talk that much with you, but it wasn’t like you had that much of a choice. He just appeared in your life, with his slight smile and broken mind, and he made you feel like you were more than just a gun and a badge, a placard on a S.H.I.E.L.D. desk. He made you feel like a person, and you love him for it.

You walk over to the neat stone fireplace to light some tinder and heat this place up. You’ve never been the best with fires, and Bucky knows this, so he crouches beside you to arrange the kindling and begin the blaze. After what seems like only a couple of seconds, the spark catches and a pleasantly crackling fire appears in the fireplace. Bucky stands back, satisfied, while you hold up your hands to the warm glow, desperately trying to ward away the winter chill.

Bucky glances over at you one last time, then turns and silently disappears from the room. You bite your cheek, pretending it doesn’t hurt you that he already feels the need to leave. If he’s already sick of you after only a couple of minutes, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to come off as a loving couple. Maybe it’ll be easy for you, because you’re not entirely sure that you’ll be faking it, but you don’t know whether or not Bucky could ever look like he was in love with you.

Then he comes out of the room again, holding in his hands a thick wool sweater. He tosses it towards you, and you pick it up, slightly confused. “You look freezing. Might as well try to stay warm, right?” You beam at him, already slipping it on. “You’re the best. None of my sweaters are anywhere near this warm.” You run your hands over the thick weaving, already feeling better.

“Well, don’t thank me quite yet,” he says with a light smile, “because I’m making you go back outside again.” You stare at him, mouth hanging slightly open in outrage. “No, you’re not. I know you’re not.” Bucky grins. “Afraid so. I’ve received word that one of our supplies came in late, so they’ve dropped it off, pretending it’s just the postal service.”

You sigh dramatically, turning to grab your winter coat once again. “You are the meanest friend ever.” Bucky walks over next to you, taking his coat off the rack as well. “Husband. We’re supposed to be undercover, remember?” How could you not? You give him a sideways glance. “If we’re undercover, I feel like you shouldn’t keep bringing it up all the time.” Bucky, hiding his metal hand underneath a pair of thick winter gloves, just grins.

It is still freezing cold outside. Maybe even worse, if that’s possible. Yet you still walk down the snow-encrusted path to the brown-wrapped package waiting for the two of you, just because you and Bucky are loyal Avengers who have to get your stupid gear even though it’s going to give you both frostbite. On the walk back, though, you’re treated to something you didn’t expect at all. The neighbours are coming out of their cabin. What’s more, they just happen to be Sara and Henri Antonovich. The couple you two were sent here to investigate.

You can feel Bucky tensing just slightly beside you at the sight of them. So he’s noticed them too. They have also seen you by now, and you wait, heart pounding in your chest, to see if there’s some chance they’ll recognize you and know that they’ve been found out. Sara turns, sees you, starts walking over. This is it.

She smiles and holds out a hand. “My name is Sara, and this is my husband, Henri. Are you two also here for the skiing?” You plaster on a smile, shaking her hand. “Yes, we’d heard about all the good snow and wanted to see it for ourselves. I’m Y/N, and this is my husband, James.” Bucky smiles at her, and shakes hands with Henri. He’s careful not to use his metal arm lest he give everything away.

You stumble slightly in the snow, but Bucky’s already reached out and steadied you, arm wrapping around your waist. You glance up at him, mouthing a silent thank-you. Sara grins. “Well, aren’t you two the sweetest! Did you get married recently?” You turn back to her, ready to let out every last detail of the lie S.H.I.E.L.D. cooked up for you. “Yes, we did. I met James at work. I know you’re not supposed to date your coworkers and everything, but he was so kind that I just couldn’t help it. I never wanted to leave his side, and we’ve been together ever since. This was supposed to be our anniversary vacation.”

Sara beams. “That’s so wonderful! Well, it was nice to meet you. See you later at the mountains.” She waves goodbye, and the two of them head off to an awaiting car. You and Bucky traipse back inside your cabin, and the second the door closes behind you, you fix Bucky with a disbelieving stare. “Did that really just happen?” Bucky nods, jaw clenched. “That was definitely the Antonovichs. I think we’ve got our guys. It’s time to call in the reinforcements.”

Bucky can’t believe it. How is this mission almost over- it barely started! All he and Y/N were supposed to do was track down Sara and Henri. He had assumed that it would take several days, yet somehow S.H.I.E.L.D. had a stroke of luck and managed to book them a cabin right next door to the very pair they were searching for. Sara and Henri are surprisingly good at staying hidden, too- if Bucky hadn’t recognized their faces from the countless data sets and case files, he would have assumed that they were nothing but well-intentioned neighbours.

His eyes flicker towards Y/N, who’s currently standing in front of the fire to keep warm. He smiles in spite of himself when he sees that she’s still wearing his sweater. He doesn’t know what he was thinking when he suggested that the two of them go on this mission together- he can barely handle himself. He doesn’t know why he had to fall in love with the one girl who makes his mind freeze up and all his thoughts scatter to the wind, but it’s not like he had much of a choice. She’s just so amazing, so perfect- he can hardly think straight around her.

She, on the other hand, appears to be perfectly fine. His mind flashes back to that conversation with the Antonovichs, when she had told Sara all about their little ‘love story’. It almost hurt, in a way, to see how she was so believable when she said she loved him. If Bucky didn’t know better, he would almost think it was true. But it isn’t, of course. She’s just exceptionally good at pretending, and that’s all he’ll ever be to her, just another prop in a story. It would be better if he could remember that, but his heart still skips a beat when she turns back to him with a smile and an outstretched hand, gesturing for him to join her at the fire.

Once the appropriate calls to S.H.I.E.L.D. are placed and you know that the reinforcements are beginning their journey here, you allow yourself to relax and drift over to the fire once more. Bucky, like always, is hesitating on the fringes of the room, but you notice something different in his gaze this time. Maybe it’s just your hopeless heart deluding itself once again, but you almost think that he’s not avoiding you because he doesn’t like you, but for an altogether different reason. Maybe it’s because he likes you too much, and he’s just too afraid to lose you.

So you hold out a hand to him, and after a heartbeat, he joins you. He wraps his arm loosely around you, tilting his head to lean against yours and soak up the warm light of the fire. He speaks softly, his voice muffled as he presses his face gently against the top of your head. “Can’t believe our ski vacation is already over. It feels like we just got here.”

You nod in agreement. “Just when this cabin was starting to feel like home. Well, I guess there will always be more missions in the future. I suppose we just need to plan them out and make sure we get the best ones. You know, the ones where our targets are living next door so all we have to do is have a good time in the mountains.” Bucky chuckles softly. “If it’s all the same to you I wouldn’t mind doing something like this again.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly. “Another mission?” He shakes his head. “Another time alone. Like this, just the two of us.” When you don’t reply immediately, his gaze starts to close off, like he’s panicked that he opened up too far. What he doesn’t know is that your mind is spinning, trying to figure out what he means and if he loves you and how much you would love to spend another weekend or even a day with him. Then you beam up at him, and he relaxes again. “I would love that, Buck.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you used his nickname, or the warmth of the fire making everything seem far more comforting than usual, but Bucky finds the courage to lean down and kiss her. She smiles against his lips, and his hand creeps up to the back of her neck. When he finally breaks away, she looks positively radiant, so he kisses her again. The mission may be ending soon, and they may have to return to ordinary life, but at least in his moment, he has her at last.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #avengers #avengers imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagines

173 notes · View notes

hinaaspanda · 4 years ago

Text

...and they were (more than) roommates! | njm

Pairing: Campus Pretty Boy + Roommate! Jaemin x Dancer! Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 9576

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin.

a/n; hi! for this fic i tried adding my own oc (Hina) just to spice things up!! lol totally not to insert myself as jenos love interest or anything ahaha anyways please enjoy!

Huang Renjun never thought that breaking off one college relationship would be so detrimental to your heart.

It really was such a small relationship, just one month of innocent pecks on the cheeks in between classes, weekend dinner dates, and trips around the city on your breaks. It was such a minute thing, yet your heart couldn’t get enough. You grew invested, never wanting to let go. Becoming dependent on mere goodbye kisses. And after one month of being together, you were stuck watching him drift away, fingers intertwined with that of someone new. Now, of course, one question remained; if it was such a short relationship, why in the world did it hurt your heart so much?

You sat under the brisk afternoon sunlight, gnawing at the cafeteria food as your campus friends began bickering over god knows what. You tune out the ruckus before you, your mind wandering like a lost child between the aisles of a supermarket. An image of him swims into your mind as you curse under your breath. It didn’t matter how healthy your break up was, or how put together your persona must’ve seemed. The only thing you wanted was to be in Renjun’s arms once again.

Suddenly, you felt the stares of a concerned Hina and Shotaro burning through you. Your shoulders shivering at the sudden thrust into the spotlight. Was your thinking face that miserable-looking? You sent a half-assed chuckle in the hopes of diverting their attention.

“Is something wrong-”

“You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?” Your childhood friend, Hina, began rather harshly, throwing off your more laid-back classmate, Shotaro. “About Renjun?”

The soda that slid down your throat almost shot out of your lips, straight into the air as Hina stared you down, interrogating you. How obvious were you? You pondered for a little bit, your eyes now meeting Hina’s and Shotaro’s concerned ones. You couldn’t defy the truth to your overly caring friends, even if you tried. “...Yeah. I was.”

The somber air around you thickened with each passing minute as you finished off your lunch for the day. You wince, fearing your friends would, out of disappointment in your inability to shut up about your failed love life, cut ties with you right then and there. You wouldn’t blame them, though. Even you were starting to get tired of your weak, measly heart. Shotaro breaks the silence, a sweet grin plastered on his face.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n! You just need to find something to get your mind off of him!” Shotaro chirps, his upbeat demeanor infecting Hina beside him. Hina continues, a grin now lining her lips.

“How about another date? With someone new!”

You almost scoff out loud. “Another date?”

The bold figure of Hina crossed her arms in disbelief. “There are other guys out there, y/n. What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?.”

“My roommate? No! We’re just friends, nothing else!” You quickly retort, waving your hands in a very strong denial. Hina’s head tilted in persuasion.

“You’ll never know until you try, y/n.” Your head hung low as you let out the fifth sigh that day. You loved Hina, you truly did, but with these outlandish ideas protruding from her head, you were convinced she was going crazy.

...

“What? You gonna chicken out or something?” Donghyuck scoffed through a disgusting amount of food stuffed in his mouth. “You’re telling me the campus hottie’s too scared to go on a date?” Jaemin’s eyes sent nothing but death threats to the aggravating college student, sipping on the vending machine drink destructive to his health. He was offended, to say the least. Offended at how inaccurate his so called ‘friend’ was being, anyways.

Na Jaemin had it all. A decent fashion sense, heavenly proportions, good grades and work ethic. A face most people would classify as attractive, and a bright, luring smile to tie it all together. Some say he was the whole package, driving the women of the campus insane as they line up to get a simple glimpse of the school’s resident hottie. He was the campus pretty boy, but one question remained; why was he still single?

It’s been theorized by many, some believing in his virtuous desire to focus on his studies, while others believe he might just swing another way or simply not interested in the idea of romance. But one thing stayed true, Na Jaemin was not some coward who couldn’t get a date.

The pretty boy sat before his set of now intrigued college friends, Donghyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang, all riddled with such an irritating curiosity it made Jaemin cringe. It was only Tuesday, Jaemin had a tower of school work waiting for him back at home, and the last thing he needed was three idiots challenging his love life. He reached for another sip of his drink, cursing at lack of said drink in the can.

“Don’t be stupid, Hyuck. I could get a girl if I wanted to. I’m just...busy right now, with schoolwork and stuff”

“Oh really?” Donghyuck’s sly voice ticked a flame in Jaemin’s soul. He huffed out a disbelieving scoff as he leaned back on the cheap, plastic chair. Was he really doubting him? He quite literally had the entire female population of the school at his grasp, and Donghyuck was doubting him? Lee Donghyuck was bound to eat his words, as gross as a child to their ice cream.

“Yeah, I can get any girl around here, just watch. And if I don’t?” Jaemin’s eyes scour around, searching for a way out another stupid idea before finally landing on the trash pile that was Yangyang’s homework. “...I’ll do your guy’s homework for a week.”

Everyone’s eyes widened at Jaemin’s proposal, a proposal that stunted even the slyest of prankers, Lee Donghyuck himself. Was he really going all out? Sacrificing a week of freetime for some measly bet? Even stupefying the once unbothered Jeno, trapped in his own, unexpectedly unfortunate love life.

“Dude are you serious? Deal!” Donghyuck and Yangyang practically hollered, both sending Jaemin a crisp slap on the back. Na Jaemin, how much of an idiot are you?

“So, who do you think you're gonna go for?” Jeno gripped the strap of his school bag as him and Jaemin trotted away from their final class of the day. Jaemin huffed out what felt like the 100th sigh that afternoon. His eyes grazing the trees peeking through the campus windows. Surely he needed a plan, right? No matter how many girls relished in his good looks, he wouldn’t possibly survive without one. Jaemin’s palms grew cold, pupils shaking in a sudden fear. God, maybe he would be stuck writing Yangyang’s overdue essays for the next week.

“What about that y/n girl?” Jeno suddenly chirped. “The quiet one from the dance department?”

Jaemin froze in his tracks, looking synonymous to a deer caught in headlights. He tilted his head, puzzled, to say the least. “...y/n?”

“Yeah, I heard she got out of a relationship recently.”

Jaemin’s once boastful voice soon grew into a stuttering mess as Jeno walked past him, sending a heartwarming chuckle. Jeno turned around, giving one final look to Jaemin, currently bathing underneath the small snippets of evening sunlight.

“It’s just something to think about, Jaem. Don’t worry about it too much.”

...

Your legs were anything but stable as you stepped off the city bus that night. You loved to dance, but you wouldn’t be lying if you said it drained you faster than a mosquito sucking out your blood. The mustard streetlight effortlessly cascaded off of your frame as your wobbly figure began its long trek to your apartment. Sudden buzzes from your phone shook you awake一a sensation your exhausted self clearly needed一before you clicked on the notification.

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: I bought us some dinner before I got home

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: sorry it’s frozen pizza lol I’m too poor :((

Roomie :) [7:36pm]: oh also I got a favour to ask when u get here

Your mind trails back to lunch, with a familiar phrase replaying in your head for the umpteenth time that day.

How about another date? With someone new?

You huffed out another somber sigh, something you found yourself doing a lot, lately. Could you really do it? Could you finally let go of the dead weight? Finally free yourself of the heartbreak tainting you? You feel your heart clenching inside you as you fumble with your house keys. Could your heart handle another simple date?

What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?

No, your roommate didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve being bombarded with the atrocity that was your failed love life. He was too sweet, too caring to deal with anything of the sort. Besides, with how gentle and pleasant he is, it was certain you didn’t deserve him.

This wouldn’t have been the first time you held your roommate in such high regard. He really had it all, a kind personality, decent looks, and an exquisite taste in cheap, diabetes inducing food. He knew all the best coffee places and knew the perfect times to surprise you with your favorite drinks. He wasn’t just some rando who split the rent with you. He was your friend. A sudden rush of unwanted blood heats up your cheeks as you stop in your tracks.

He was your friend. Nothing more.

The golden light of your apartment blinded you as you strolled in. The figure of your roommate was cast before you, dawning his classic ivory shirt and grey sweatpants, paired perfectly with his undone hair, and a plate of steaming hot pizza, straight from the microwave. It looked nothing like the pretty boy image he left your apartment with before class this morning. It was surreal, really. Only you got the luxury to see him like this. It was one of the strange perks of being roommates with the one and only, Na Jaemin.

“Welcome home!” Jaemin chirped to your sleepy figure. He thrusted the plate of pizza to you, a smile wiped across his cheeks. “Pizza?”

...

Your heart almost leaped out of your chest.

Your trembling, sweaty palms couldn’t stop shaking since dinner, almost breaking one of your scarce dinner plates in the process of washing them. You couldn’t blame yourself, though. Na Jaemin’s proposal was nothing but calming.

“So, what were you gonna ask me, anyways?” You spat through your mouth full of rubbery pizza. God, you need to eat properly before practice. You glanced at our roommate, currently fiddling with the tips of some miscellaneous fork as he suddenly dodged your eyes.

“Uh, yea, that.” He stuttered. So timid, it was unreal to you. Usually this man had no fear of asking for favours. Whether it was doing his laundry or fixing up dinner on his assigned day of the week, he would never show any hesitation on asking you to do anything.

“Okay this is gonna sound weird, but…” Jaemin started, breaking into a cold sweat. “I need you to go on a fake date with me.” Jaemin finally exhaled before connecting his eyes with yours. The whites of your eyes spilled out, along with the juice that almost had the chance of successfully slipping down your throat. He wanted... what?

“Don’t worry! It’s just gonna be one date! I made this stupid bet with Hyuck, and if I don’t get a date soon, I need to do their homework for a whole week!” He gripped the locks of his hair as he slumped onto his side of the dining table.

You shuffled back to the dining room, clenching your paper towel tightly in your palm. Anything to help calm your rapid heart down, just for a moment. “And, you can use this as a chance to distract yourself from that Renjun asshole.”

A sudden pain struck your chest like a lightning bolt to a lanky tree, barren in a grassland. You wince at the sudden calling of that name, your taste buds growing sour. You let out another soft sigh. You really need to get over him, fast. You stretch up from your seat, hoisting up the now empty dinner plate as you trudge towards the sink. But not before stopping in your tracks, tilting your head in Jaemin’s direction.

“I-uh-I’ll think about it.”

Oh, you thought about it, alright. Screamed into your poor, innocent pillow about it, at least.

It all zoomed too fast for you, too swift for your brain to handle. Your breathing grew short and shallow. You felt as if you could die, right then and there, gripping onto your bed sheets while freaking out about Na Jaemin, your bold roommate. No, you couldn’t take up his risque offer. You were in no shape to go on another date, even if it did have no actual meaning behind it. You were too tangled in your mess of a life, and this stupid move would only fan the fire.

You can use this as a chance to distract yourself from Renjun.

The phrase rang through your head more time than you would’ve liked. No matter how much you shielded yourself from his claim, Jaemin would still be right in that manner. You needed to distract yourself, sure. But was this the way to go?

Another sigh escapes your lips as you rush down the hall of your apartment. Your steps, hesitant as ever, dripping in a mix of confusion, exhaustion and nervousness. It’s official. You are the worst at well thought-out decisions.

“Hey” you huffed at your roommate, eyeing him timidly as he washes the dishes. Something your shaken figure couldn’t properly complete without breaking a glass that night. He shifts to face you, a slightly nervous expression painting him. You clear your throat before continuing, hoping that small cough would stop time in its tracks.

“I-I’ll go on that date with you.”

His classic boisterous smile spreads across his face once again. If your mind wasn’t rushing around in four different places at once, you could probably admit that you found it the slightest bit cute.

“Really? Thanks so much! How does this Saturday at 7 sound?”

You only had the mental energy to swiftly nod your head as you zoomed back into the confines of your room, your safe space. You couldn’t help but notice the heat rising back to your cheeks as you plopped back onto the bed, vigorously scrolling through your phone to find your saviours.

the gorls and shotaro [9:48pm]: guys I need help with something

the gorls and shotaro [9:49pm]: let’s meet at hina’s after class

...

“I don’t care if you’re just going on some fake date to lie to his friends, I still wanna make you look hot!” Hina never failed to leave you, Shotaro, and probably some people passing by her house, shaken by her booming voice. With her small, fragile looking frame, she was the last one you’d expect to have such a bold personality.

“Please, that’s the fifth dress in your closet she’s tried already. It’s just a fake date, we don’t even need to try hard!” Shotaro challenges, his attention leaving a now grumbling Hina as it turns towards you. “Why did you even say yes, anyways?”

“I dunno, I’m stupid?” You murmur, the hint of bitterness caught in your breath. You give a subpar twirl to your audience, a deadpan expression shielding your face. “I guess I wanna help him? It would suck to do all that homework for a week.”

“Yeah, but he could easily ask any other girl on the campus. This is freaking Na Jaemin we’re talking about!” Hina once again hollered. An action that would guarantee her a slap on the head if you didn’t love her so much.

“Are you sure it's just for that stupid bet?”

You slip into the makeshift change room, which was really just blankets hung on coat hangers, propped across two sides of a corner in Hina’s room. After making your final decision for your outfit of the night, you change back into your own clothes, stalling your response to Hina’s question. You never knew why you felt the need to stall, though. You should know your answer by now, right?

“Yeah, it’s just for the bet, nothing else.” You find your voice trailing off at those last words of yours as you emerge from the corner, holding the destined outfit that made the cut. Hina sighed, plopping onto the bed like the main character of those dramas after they finally find out they’re in love.

“Just make sure you aren’t lying to yourself, y/n. It could hurt you.”

“Oh really? Isn’t it time you listen to your own advice??” Shotaro provoked, Hina now shooting up from the bed in irritation. “How are things going with that Jeno guy, huh?”

“I am going to murder you.” Hina’s voice stayed low, barely trembling before zooming through the door, chasing a now escaping Shotaro and his incredibly fast feet. You, however, couldn’t pray for Shotaro’s survival. Not with your mind stuck in it’s own rut, and your cheeks now glowing a violent pink.

This was just for a bet, nothing else. You reminded yourself once again.

...

“This wasn’t too bad, right?” His soothing voice swam through your ears softly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm down your heart, which was currently pacing anywhere but your chest. You mustered up all the courage in the world to glance back at his eyes across the restaurant table, your breaths stopping in an effort to hide the sudden rush of blood flowing to your cheeks. With his unbothered eyes locking onto yours in an instant, Na Jaemin sent you another one of his heartache-inducing smiles. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

This shouldn’t be affecting you this much. After all, the only thing you and Jaemin really did was sit under the restaurant roof, order dishes deemed perfect under the social media lens, and take pictures with said dishes, becoming the perfect pieces of evidence to show that Na Jaemin was no coward. However, with the romantic, first date type outfit draped onto your figure, and the general ambience of the room, you couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit flustered. You shot him another smile, one hiding the forest fire that was your mental state. “Uh, yeah! No problem!”

Silence fell over the two of you as you listened to the clinks of glass sounding off from the dishwashing station behind you. A silence that you wanted to hold onto more than anything. But alas, Your roommate breaks it, glancing up from the ground.

“You look great, by the way.”

Your cheeks flush a deep vermillion. They’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“Thanks, Jaem.” You barely muster out, dodging his eyes. “But you don’t have to say stuff like that, this is all fake, remember?” You took the time to remind him, not fully sure who truly needed it. You fiddled with your fingers as your ears picked up the sudden ruckus of obnoxious college students coming from down the dining hall.

“You should ask her out, Jeno!” a voice chirped

“No! Are you crazy? She probably thinks I’m weird or something”

“I doubt it, you’re hot! Plus, she’s in my department! I can alway ask-”

“Guys, quick, look! Over there!”

The voices grew closer and closer, the whites of your eyes spilling more and more in utter shock. You can’t help but check on Jaemin, the same expression now burning through you. You mirrored each other so much, you could tell the exact words running through his mind right now. Mostly because they ran through yours, too. Oh Shit.

“JAEMIN!!” The voice of an irritating Lee Donghyuck rang through your ears at an alarming, and unwanted rate. The hollers of an equally aggravating Liu Yangyang from Jaemin’s class, swiftly followed, leaving behind the only tolerable one, Lee Jeno behind. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Ahaha, hey!” Jaemin stuttered, panic overflowing in his eyes as the three intruders squished into the already occupied, two person booth. His eyes scanned the restaurant, grasping for any way to escape. Afterall, this was certainly not part of the plan. Donghyuck’s curious eyes scanned, too, his pupils finally focusing on you. “And who might this be?”

“I-I’m y/n” You stuttered out, your wrist feeling heavy as you began gesturing to the date in front of you. “I’m his da-”

A lightbulb jumped from Jaemin’s head, his shoulder jolting in response. Na Jaemin wasn’t one for outlandish pranks, especially if you were at the receiving end, which only made your thumping heart wonder; what the hell was he trying to pull now?

“She’s my date.”

Suddenly, your once isolated and vacant hand was tugged to the center of the dinner table before softly getting encased in his. His fingers, notably bigger than your nimble ones, interlocked with yours. Heat began to creep up at your ears. Who knew your hand fit so perfectly in his? You looked down, foolishly hoping that your cheeks would stop flushing into that embarrassing red if you hid it well enough. “See?”

“Oh!” Donghyuck lined his lips with a stupid grin, his eyebrows wiggling as he scoffs in disbelief. Yangyang riled up with excitement beside him, and even the calm Jeno couldn’t stop his jaw from falling to the floor. Na Jaemin did it. He really pulled it off. “I guess we’re disturbing something, then?”

“No worries! We were just about to leave, anyways” Jaemin still held onto that panicked tremble in his voice as the two of you shuffled through the restaurant booth. He stalked behind you before handing you your coat. “See you guys tomorrow!”

Your mind couldn’t help but focus on the light touch Jaemin’s palm left on the lower, small of your back as he gently escorted you from the restaurant. You felt like a princess, protected by your knight’s brute strength, as you tiptoed on your path of feathers. That darned flushed heat wouldn’t leave your cheeks. Na Jaemin, your one and only roommate, was driving you crazy.

The wind roughly brushes against your cheek as the two of you finally exit the restaurant. The breeze was the last thing you would’ve classified as comfortable, which was why you felt just the slightest twinge of disappointment once the warmth of his hand snaked away from you. His palm hugged the nape of his neck as his eyes softened from their former panic.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know they’d show up so randomly.”

No, he had nothing to apologize for. It was your fault for being so greedy. You instinctively widen the distance between you, saving yourself from a wave of embarrassment.

“It’s fine.”

It’s official, you hated your weak heart more than anyone.

...

Three. There were three instances in which your heart was set on fire the next day, by none other than the infamous Na Jaemin, of course.

[10:49 am]

A violent GAME OVER! blasted through your ear drums as you slumped on the couch, watching your roommate die for the 70th time that evening. He let out an equally jolting groan, throwing the controller to the depths of your living room carpet before rushing to check if it was okay. You sat promptly on the couch he leaned against, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as if last night you didn’t experience the most heart-collapsing date in the 19 years of your life.

Your heart still hasn’t properly healed from it, either. Every time you pass by him in the halls, whether it be a quick snack or a glass of water, your heart never fails to tense up, your throat tightening up in a cruel response. You swear, Na Jaemin was out for your blood the moment he asked you to stay in the living room with him, even if it was to simply watch him fail play.

“Aw fuck me!” Jaemin suddenly blurted out as he examined the now loosened control button. As if on cue, an army of redness storms through your cheeks as you listen in, his simple word choice setting you off. Your head shakes vigorously enough to give you a pounding headache, before you get the chance to fill your head with certain spoiled thoughts. Wow, you really are evil.

You didn’t spare him the explanation for your sudden departure from the living room couch. All you knew was that your mind and heart were running haywire, and the only thing that could stop you from thinking about your roommate as anything but your roommate was a deep rethinking of your own morals beside your castle of stuffed animals.

[2:45 pm]

“Here, I’ll get that for you.” Jaemin’s towering figure shielded your back from the apartment kitchen as he stretched over, retrieving the ranging dish your pitiful frame couldn’t reach. He closed the air between you, his extended chest grazing your shoulder as you stood frozen, your mouth gaping open. He sends you a playful grin as he hands you the plate. “You should try growing a little more, y/n!”

You were too stuck in your questionable haze to tighten your grip on the glass plate, so it was only natural to feel the glass slip through your fingers, shards of the crisp material scattering around your bare feet. Frightened, Jaemin scurried below you, the gentleness of his fingers as he picks up each shard of glass sending butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh my god! Y/n, are you alright!?” You wanted to scoff at his face. Of course you weren’t.

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay.”

He glances up from below you, his fingers circling the new scratch on your foot that only surfaced from your astound clumsiness.

“Be careful next time, alright?”

You nod hesitantly, staying frozen as Jaemin swiftly works around you; throwing out the dangerous glass shards, running away to retrieve your first aid kit, and patching up your pathetic wound in what felt like one swift heartbeat. God, how pathetic were you?

[8:22 pm]

“Have you seen my hoodie? The blue one?” Jaemin showed no mercy to your innocent door as it swung straight into the wall beside it. You let out an award-winning shriek, your once calm figure jumping from its curled up position. “I think it’s in your laundry bin.”

What he actually had on was...minimal. Nothing but tousled, damp hair and a white towel hooked around his waist. You would let out another shriek if you wanted to, but the lack of air reaching your lungs, all from the utter shock of a half-naked Na Jaemin in your wake, stopped you from spitting out any kind of noise imaginable. You dig your fingernails into the flesh of your poor teddy bear as you shield your eyes from your door frame.

“Gahh! What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh.” It finally clicked in his mind that his current appearance was not for the faint of heart. Not for yours, at least. You let out another ear- piercing wail. “Put on a shirt already!!”

Jaemin let out a boastful, childish laugh. He leaned over, digging for your eyes, which were currently finding anything else to lay their attention on. “What, are you getting flustered?”

Your eyes finally meet up with his as he keeps you hostage with his stare. A familiar heat storms up your cheeks for the millionth time that evening as you grip the limb of another one of your stuffies on standby. With one final whine, you chuck the plush at his direction. Your lack of looking back all in an effort to hide your glowing red face, out for revenge. “Get out!”

“You’re so cute, y/n.” Jaemin teasingly hums as he slips out of your door frame. You let out an exhausted huff, your chest loosening so much, you’re convinced you haven’t been properly breathing before then.

Na Jaemin will seriously be the death of you.

...

You knew it was cowardly, but you just had to run away. Your weak heart wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise.

You wisp into the barren walls of the dance studio, the flickering lights blinding your vision as you switch them on. You shuffle to the corner of the room, dropping your bag before fumbling with the music station. A soothing song swims through your ears as you settle down in the center of the room, an eye keeping watch of your posture. You close your eyes. Maybe this will finally calm your heart down.

You start slowly, an arm traveling artistically through the air as your legs twirl around the floor. The melody of the music carries your limbs away, leaving your mind alone to think.

They were just simple interactions, a simple slip up ending with a broken dish, a simple choice of words, a simple clasp of the hands to keep up with some measly lie. They were such small things, so why did your heart light up in flames everytime? Why did each instance leave a staining image of Jaemin in your mind, everytime?

You think back to the man that held your heart, before brutally smashing it with his own fist. Huang Renjun. He hasn’t grazed your mind for quite some time now, but this familiar feeling wasn’t exactly pleasurable. Your heart soaked itself in that same lonely feeling, the desire to cling back. You froze from your dance, expecting full well your mind would submerge in a pool of sorrow. Yet, this week was just full of surprises, wasn’t it?

Another image of your horrid roommate flies into your mind, your head mentally swatting it away like a pestering insect. Nonetheless, it’s trailed back, persistent as ever, as you grumble your way to turn off the music. Na Jaemin, wins again.

You could admit, Jaemin kept his promise at shielding your mind away from your failing love life, but he never warned you about the repercussions that were of him seeping into a corner of your heart. His risque, almost flirty behaviour, his teasing remarks, a smile that would brighten up a barren world. He just wouldn’t leave your mind. Yet, you knew you couldn’t have him. If your forest fire of a romance with Renjun had taught you anything, it was that you couldn’t love. You were too clueless, too childish to properly hold someone’s heart. You didn’t deserve anyone’s love.

After gathering your belongings, you trek out the door. You were so lost in your thoughts, not even the thing you held to your heart so dearly, dancing, could pull you out of your rut. You were in no state to go back home just yet, so your fingers trace your phone screen to look for Hina, your resident childhood friend and therapist, apparently. And you wished you had the luxury of plopping onto Hina’s bed, screaming out all your anger into her pillow as she sneaks snacks up to her room, but your horrid life had other plans.

A familiar figure stop’s in their tracks, their bag swaying in their grasp一a grasp that was almost loosened in pure shock一 as they connect their eyes to yours. You stay frozen, your breath hitching as you search for anything to say. And by the looks of it, they were doing the same.

“Y-y/n?” The voice of a flabbergasted Huang Renjun rings through your ear. “W-what are you doing here?”

...

It didn’t take Jaemin long to realize you had left early that morning. Your dance bag left an awkward space beside your night stand in its absence, the dish drying rack was already occupied, with one simple plate and a glass turned over. But more importantly, Jaemin woke up with an empty, lost feeling rumbling inside him一something he only felt when you weren’t around.

It first occurred during the third week of splitting rent, when you joined the school’s dance team. You had left the room without a trace, leaving Jaemin to search for you like a lost puppy to its reluctant owner, instead of getting ready for his afternoon class. He tried his best to brush it off as simple boredom, but with the way his vision simply lights up in your presence, even he started to get suspicious of himself.

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it at first, the very reason you always trailed in his mind. It could have been anything. Your immense amount of talent, the wisp of anonymity that surrounded you, one he strived to break to get to know you better. The angelic personality he was first greeted with once he did break down that barrier. Anything about you could’ve easily pulled his heart closer to you. He was in love.

Nevertheless, he clearly wasn’t obvious enough, as within weeks of beginning your college career, your figure was cradled in the arms of another man. Huang Renjun, resident A+ student and Jaemin’s childhood classmate.

As the days pass by, and he becomes bombarded with endless homework, the two of you slowly drift apart, returning to the simple ‘roommate’ label on your contact lists. He resorts to the abundance of girls around the campus. Hoping each one he’d fool around with could finally get his head away from you. Yet, as he always comes home just to see your face, so did his heart, apparently.

Don’t get him wrong, he felt terrible the night you trudged home in tears, the fresh sadness of a break up welling through you. And he tried everything in his power to make you feel better, though it never worked. But一 and he would rather kill a man than ever let this slip from his tongue一he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit relieved that you were finally in his grasp once again.

“So, how serious are you? About her?” Jeno quizzed through the phone, a now distressed Na Jaemin on the other side of the line. Jaemin fell onto the bed, dust particles jumping into the air.

“I really like her” Jaemin huffed.

“So? Then go tell her! You should be with her, not here blabbering about her to me. Look, you don’t have anything to worry about, Jaem. It’s not like she’s in a relationship anymore.”

Jaemin's eyes widen and Jeno’s nonchalant words. That's right. You weren’t taken anymore. Not trapped in the confines of another man’s arms. It was what he was fighting for, all those months ago. Na Jaemin finally had a shot with you.

“Are you sure you like her?” Jeno pulled Jaemin back to reality as Jaemin scrambled to the bathroom. He placed the device down on the bathroom sink, his eyes locking in with his reflection from the bathroom mirror. “Yeah.”

He chuckled to himself before ending the call, an image of you rolling into his mind. ‘Like’ would be a deep understatement. He was in love, has been for months now, and he was finally ready to tell the truth. He probably looked like a little kid hungry for ice cream, but he didn’t care. He paced out the door. He was going to finally have you, once and for all.

...

“She and I are good, yeah.” Renjun stuttered out, not looking past the drink he hastily purchased before the two of you sat down in the campus cafe. “What about you? How have you been?”

With all your might, you stopped your throat from belting out a petty laugh. How have you been? Was he being serious? You’ve been pleasant, aside from all the inner turmoil ringing through your heart at the moment. You sent a bogus smile at the man in front of you. “I’ve been...alright.”

The awkward silence suffocated you, squeezing your throat so tight, not a single sliver of air could slip through. Why did he come across you now of all times? And why did he have to be so much more emotionally sound than you were? Renjun shifted around, clearing his chest with a small ahem! You knew he was always a man who would never beat around the bush, and today was no exception.

“I’m sorry…” His sudden confession shook you to your core, the liquid inside your glass mimicking your shivering movements. Your eyes, out of pure shock, finally take the courage to graze across Renjun as he continues. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that, I know I didn’t give you that much of an explanation back then.”

Your eyes retire back to the wooden table in front of you. He didn’t need to apologize. He didn’t need to explain himself at all, not when your greedy heart was at fault. “I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I wasn’t enough for you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Renjun.” You were having enough trouble forgetting him as it is, you didn’t need this.

“I didn’t wanna lie to myself, so that’s why I left you so abruptly like that.” He explains, his fingers turning white from his grip on the coffee cup. Your breaths grow short, your mind scurrying to find the hidden meaning behind his words. All this time, your mind retired to the idea of him running away from your clinging figure, claiming that now rash narrative as valid; correct. Tearing your heart up into little pieces in the process.

“So we didn’t break up because I was being...selfish?”

“Selfish? Of course not.” He comforted. “You deserve someone else, someone way better than me.”

Your mind trails back to your roommate once again, his smile growing more contagious. You find your lips sneaking in a small smile at the thought of him. Except, this time, no twinge of sorrow had followed. Like a bag of bricks lifted off your shoulders, you were finally free. You shined a genuine grin, your first in a long while. “So, we’re good?”

“Of course, y/n.”

You were so trapped in your own childish thoughts, you didn’t notice the hasty booming steps crash through the cafe door frame.

“Y/N!” The voice of your roommate flew through your ears, striking you like a deer caught in blinding headlights. His volume was so loud, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard him from the outside of the cafe. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

...

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back. Generally unbothered with a smirk lining his lips every now and then. It was one of the ways he stayed on top of the collective campus hierarchy for so long, he was always calm, cool, and collected. He always was, except for today. Instead, he was scrambling at his feet, thumbing through every inch of the school, looking for the infamous y/n.

He finally skips to the cafe, the faint scent of coffee and flavouring overtaking him. He was a panting mess, his hands gripping at the bolts of his knees as he leaned over in pure exhaustion. It was weird, Jaemin always considered himself to be decently fit. It must’ve been you, suddenly turning his world upside down.

She’s gotta be here.

As if on cue, your head pops up on the corner of his eye, basking under the afternoon sunlight which generously seeped through the cafe window. Your eyes weren’t on him, but that wasn’t the worst of his problems. His eyes travel further down your direction, his limp legs mindlessly following like a puppet on two strings. Your eyes weren’t on Jaemin. They were on someone else.

Renjun.

A familiar clenching feeling pulls on his heart harshly, so much so, that his hands reach up to palm the pain through his chest. He’s only felt this rude awakening one other time in the 19 years of his life; the moment you left the house on your first ever date with Huang Renjun. A flame ignites within him as he stalks up to the table. With his heaving breaths and awkward, stiff posture, it was inevitable he'd summon a couple of stares from various customers, but he couldn’t care less.

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back, but because of you, he became this gross, jealous, poor excuse of a man.

“You didn’t have to be so loud, you know!” You found your voice peaking at the end of your sentence, probably gathering more attention than what you were currently lecturing Jaemin for. A blush stained the circles of your cheeks, though you were never quite sure whether it was the embarrassment of being the center of attention, or the fact that Na Jaemin came rushed and disheveled, looking for you. You cleared your throat to hide your obscene thoughts一a practice you’ve been getting the hang of, lately. “What did you need from me anyway-”

“Why were you with him.” Jaemin cut in. Although, with his stone cold frame now towering over you, his eyes; unassuming and distant, and shallow, hitched breaths, you weren’t even certain this was the same roommate you couldn’t get out of your head for the past week. You simply wave your hand away.

“We just happened to meet up by accident, and we got to talk some stuff out, that's all.” You prayed that your calm voice could soothe the currently tempered man before you. Of course, however, it didn’t.

“Was it really?”

“Yes! Okay, Jaem? What’s with you today?”

“Don’t visit him anymore.” His voice boomed towards the end of his sentences, startling even the finest of nature as two innocent birds fly away in fear.

Something didn’t click, didn’t sit right in your head. Since when was he so demanding? So rude? You found yourself slowly backing away from his figure, an action you thought you’d have to do in your life. Before, he was always a safe space for you, even without your confusing feelings for him. He was always there for you. But now, the air around turned gray, and you were scared more than anything. You scoff, throwing Jaemin off.

“Are you telling me what to do?”

“I’m only worried for you, y/n.”

“Worried about what, exactly? That I’d get back with Renjun?” You stand firm before him. Y/n, what the hell are you doing now. To your own dismay, you continue. “Why would you care about that anyways?”

“Am I not allowed to care about you!?” He practically hollered at the top of his lungs. A fire welled up inside you, with no way of fanning it down. Who does this guy think he is?

“Last time I checked, we didn’t have anything real! Everything between us was all a damn lie! So no, maybe you don’t!”

You lay one final blow straight to Jaemin’s chest, knocking him down like a line of concurred dominoes. Your heart clenches in a cruel response. You were right, factually correct, but the truth always came with a price. Spectators began to crowd around the scene, as a fuming Jaemin stalks towards you, closing the distance between your shoulder blades and brick wall behind you.

“WELL MAYBE I WANTED SOMETHING REAL!” Jaemin retorted, eyes holding a flame you never thought your calm roommate could ignite within him. The air around you grew cautious, the only things sounding off were the weary engines driving past the scene of the crime. His breath grew shallow as it brushed against your skin, your trembling figure watching as he let out an aggravated sigh. His fingers, laced in irritation, comb through his hair as he softens his voice into one final whisper.

“But you don’t want anything like that, right? ‘Cause you’re still caught up with that Renjun asshole?”

“Jae-”

“Forget it” Jaemin spits, his eyes finally dodging yours. He backs away from your trembling figure, his hands buried in his pockets as he quickened his pace away from you. Jaemin hissed under his breath, everything finally clearing up in his head. You didn’t want him, You were never ready to move on. It’s official, Na Jaemin couldn’t have you, and he never will.

...

Your brain always had a knack for remembering things, keeping random nuggets of knowledge stored deep within random crevices of your head. Your brain always had a good memory, and today was no exception.

Forget it.

You could probably liven up a lifeless desert with your endless tears that stained Hina’s pillows that night. It would be life or death to retire properly to your own home, not with the atrocity that was this afternoon still thriving in your wake. One more bottled emotion, and your body would simply burst out of existence. You could only properly pinpoint three of them; exhaustion welling up in your feet, confusion tearing through your brain, and guilt overflowing in your heart.

“What am I gonna do?” you weep through the flesh of Hina’s teddy bear. After tossing the empty pop can into her makeshift trash can, Hina plopped onto her bed beside you, drilling a finger straight into her temple. “You need to tell him how you feel, y/n, you can’t just leave him in the dark like that. That’s probably why he got so riled up.”

Your eyes shake as they stay on the ground. Hina shuffles around arms crossing in a full interrogation. “You do know what you want, right?”

Slowly, and without much thought pulling at your strings, you slowly nod. “Well then, what is it?”

An image of your roommate shines into your head once again. The kind roommate you had the great luxury of coming home to, the one always saving you a slice of frozen pizza for when you arrive, the one who reaches the irritating dishes at the top of the cupboard, the one you couldn't get out of your mind. His heartwarming demeanour, his charming smile, his everything. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. With a twinge of determination, you lock eyes with Hina.

“I want it all to be real. I wanna be with Jaemin.”

Hina rested her back onto the plump mattress, a smug grin lining her lips as she crossed her arms in pride. “So you’re finally gonna start listening to me, hm?”

...

“Are you sure about this, Jaem?” Yangyang has never一in Jaemin’s two years of knowing him一sounded so concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. It sent shivers down his spine, how pitiful Jaemin must’ve looked right now. His fingers grasped the horrendous stack of papers; one wrong move could easily decorate the floor with the homework, and Jaemin was...concerned, to say the least.

“Why are we even doing this? You won the bet!” Donghyuck hugged his own stack close to his chest as the three boys watched Jaemin’s head sink low to the floor, and watched his heart sink even lower. “Yeah, about that...”

Even if the truth hurts, it needs to be said, right?

“...Y/n wasn’t my date at the restaurant. I never asked anyone out, actually. The truth is… she’s my roommate. I only asked her out on a fake date so I could keep the bet going.”

Jaemin felt the confused, yet somber stares of Jeno burn through his skin. It only made sense that Jeno had a few questions; Na Jaemin’s beaten up, hunched over figure was nothing like the lovestruck, head-over-heels Jaemin he’d witnessed just a couple of days prior. “But it didn’t work out that well with her, so here I am, ready for the punishment.”

It struck Jaemin’s chest more times that could count, slashing at his heart, his pride, everything he loved. How could he be so foolish? Convincing himself his simple crush could ever reciprocate his feelings. Could ever love him back. Nevertheless, it was more clear now than ever before. To you, he would always just have one label; a simple roommate.

“Jaemin-” Donghyuck reluctantly brushed his palm on Jaemin’s shoulder, his best excuse for a peace offering. Jaemin, however, finally snapped, shooting a glare through the eyes of his rather persistent friends.

“What? You were right, okay? I can’t get any girl I want. I really am just a coward, so I deserve this!” Jaemin slumped his figure一drenched in a sorrow he’s gotten quite familiar with, as of late一into a cheap, cafeteria chair, his heart leaping through his throat.

“She was the only one I wanted, anyway, so what’s the point?”

“I think you got a few things wrong there, buddy.” A familiar voice rang through Jaemin’s ears. The whites of his eyes spilled out of their sockets as Jaemin shot up. You couldn’t blame him, though. The last thing he expected to see was his childhood classmate, Huang Renjun, before him. “You still have a chance with y/n, Jaemin.”

Jaemin sent a rough hiss at Renjun before slowly backing down at Renjun’s unnaturally calm demeanour. “What?”

“I’m not after her anymore, nor is she after me.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Then why-”

“It was an accident, we didn’t mean to meet up like that. And that talk at the cafe? It was all for closure. It was something she and I both needed, a lot, if I might add.”

“So… you weren’t trying to get her back?”

Renjun squinted at the utter dumbassary currently blinding him at the moment. “No, are you stupid? I have a girlfriend. And besides, when she first saw you barge into the cafe, her flustered reaction tells me she feels the same way, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Heat rushed over to Jaemin’s cheeks, the cause being a 50-50 blend of pure embarrassment一from letting his jealous heart take over his mind一and the simple, but beautiful thought of you. Everything started to fall back in their rightful places. His head was finally cleared, his anger had finally wisped away. And more importantly, you were moment’s away from being his. Moments away from retiring the ‘roommate’ label.

Donghyuck leaped from his seat. A directing hand pointed towards the dance department wing as Donghyuck shifted into his ‘fight or flight’ stance, riling up with energy. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR? CONFESS!!”

Without any further hesitation, Jaemin shot from his seat, his eyes etched with determination, and his heart moments away from bursting through his chest. Donghyuck let out a defeated sigh, arms crossing in disappointment. “God, I can’t believe the campus playboy is such a wuss!”

...

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin. It also didn’t matter that you spent a whopping one night without his bedroom just across the hall from yours; as your heart was still drenched in the guilt you couldn’t seem to get rid of. However, one thing was made clear that night. Your heart purely and utterly belonged to Na Jaemin alone. Only one thing stayed in your way; he may more may not hate your guts now.

Your palms dripped in a cold sweat as your limbs begrudgingly swam in the air. It was bad enough your dance instructor gave not one, but two lectures about getting distracted to blow your ears dry, but even after that public display of embarrassment, your head couldn’t stop recounting the different ways you could finally tell Na Jaemin the truth; the whole truth.

I want the real thing with you

I don’t just want something fake, Jaemin

I wanna be with you

That last statement threw your cheeks into a heated, rosy frenzy. You cup your hands attempting to hide your horrid thoughts as your dance instructor, with a few deadpan words, sets your class free for the evening. You scurry to the corner, peacefully shoving your things into your bag when Shotaro’s voice suddenly rings behind your ear.

“Y/n? Oh yeah, she’s right over there.”

“Great, thanks.”

You freeze on the spot. You could recognize that voice from a mile away. It was almost concerning on your part.

“Y/n!” The voice yelps, in a tone you hadn’t heard in a while. You smile under your breath. You missed his cheerful voice. You slowly prop up, dropping your bag to the depths of the dance room floor. You pivot on your heel, your chest coming face to face with none other than Na Jaemin, in the flesh. “I need to tell you something.”

After scrambling out of the dance room, certainly not attracting the attention of any unwanted instructors, the two of you hide behind the studio entrance. Jaemin stood just centimeters before you, his breath shivering despite the warmer weather. Although, and you wouldn’t be surprised, but this warm sensation could simply be deriving from your cheeks, which was nothing new.

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you yesterday, I never wanted to be mean to you or anything, I was just… heated, yeah.” Jaemin finally began, scratching the nape of his neck. You didn’t like the fact that he was the one apologizing to you, when you knew it should’ve been the other way around. “You don’t need to say sorry, Jaem. I lashed out too and-”

“I was being all selfish, when I really should’ve been thinking clearly. I-I was jealous when I saw you two together, and I couldn’t take it.”

You stopped dead in your tracks. Jealous? He was jealous?

“Truth is… I’ve liked you for some time now, probably ever since we first met. And while the fake date was really fake…” His eyes finally lock yours up, keeping them hostage in his determined glare. “...I really wanted something real between us.”

Jaemin’s hand reached down, cupping your nimble fingers in it as he kept his eye contact tight. His breath hitched as he eyed you, all flustered and adorable with your eyebrows furrowed in a hopeful confusion. Everything about you made him want to cradle you in his arms, never letting go, forever.

“Can I be more than just your roommate, y/n?”

You stayed frozen, mouth gaping wide open at every confession he threw at you. You stayed so still, the only thing visibly moving on your body was the rapid blush zooming through your ears and cheeks, except this time, you didn’t feel the sudden urge to hide such a sensation. Your mind didn’t carry the necessary brian capacity properly function, so naturally, your arms did the job for you.

Your palms cupped the edges of Jaemin’s jaw, a sudden confidence surging through you as you pulled him closer. The tips of your noses collide moments before the surfaces of your lips. You melt into a passion filled kiss, a kiss that’s been pending since the day you first moved in together. Jaemin hugs the small of your waist as you hug his neck. Instinctively, your stomach tucks itself, hiding the embarrassing butterflies fluttering within it. You felt like a celebrity, kissing the campus’ pretty boy; Na Jaemin. Your eyes flicker open.

“Of course you can.”

Your’s and Jaemin’s world crashes back into reality at the sound of a pestering holler, one which Jaemin could only sigh in grief to in response. You turn around only to find a snooping crowd right behind you. Shotaro, joined with two of Jaemin’s friends you first met at the restaurant; Yangyang and Donghyuck, jump for joy at the sight of you two, while a distressed Hina rips her hair out at the fact that she missed the most world shattering confession scene known to man. Jeno, to the right of her, calms her down in a heartbeat. Those two were really perfect for each other. You turn back to Jaemin, a wide grin now taking over his face. He tightens the grip around your hand, a hand that you noticed he’s never let go since he first arrived at your department.

“Do you have another class after this?” “No, why?”

A sly smirk lines his lips as he raises an eyebrow. “Then, shall we go home, darling?”

Gosh, he was such a dork. “Of course.”

…

The long awaited kiss between Hina and Jeno was much more dramatic than any first kiss you could’ve imagined. In fact, it was practically ripped right out the current episode of the drama you and Jaemin had settled down to watch. The air was filled with cheerful hollers roaring from Yangyang and Shotaro and the pathetic wails of Donghyuck realizing that一with Shotaro’s crush on the new girl on campus and the random girl Yangyang met online一he would be the last one standing in the terribly single committeeTM. Jaemin grumbled beside you, his head tucked under your chin as you sat cradled in his arms

“Jeez, Jeno’s stealing my thunder!”

“Let them live, Jaem. They’re in love.”

Jaemin huffed with over exaggeration. “I can’t believe Jeno would betray me like that!”

You pulled Jaemin’s chin up, his face now inches from yours. “Why don’t you forget about them, alright? Just focus on me instead.”

The two of you lean into a kiss, basking in the afternoon sunlight that was peeking through the campus roof. It didn’t matter who was around you anymore, whether they were random strangers or your annoying yet close knit friends. You had already won at life, being the girlfriend of the infamous Na Jaemin; your very special roommate.

142 notes · View notes

astralaffairs · 4 years ago

Note

I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING I NEED YOU TO KNOW ABOUT. LONGTIME POLITICAL RIVALS THOM AND MC RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT AGAINST EACH OTHER

omg

--------

"You've gotta be kidding me."

Y/N's grip on her glass was slowly tightening; her narrowed eyes were locked on him from across the room. "What is he doing here?"

Priya, her campaign manager, sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Want me to have him thrown out?"

"No," she huffed. "He'd make a scene of it, and that's the last thing I want."

A moment passed in (relative) silence, save for the sounds of chatter scattered throughout the room at Y/N's campaign fundraiser. She tapped the toe of one of her black pumps impatiently against the polished floor, and it took all of her will to stop herself from snapping the stem of her wine glass; instead, she threw the rest of her drink back in one heavy sip. "How do you figure I should handle this?"

She turned to Priya with a weary eyebrow raised. Priya frowned. "I think you're best off proceeding as usual. Keep talking to prospective donors, and don't let him derail your night."

"You're probably right." Y/N's sour expression didn't fit her acquiescence. "But this is so obnoxious. Who the hell does he think he is?"

"Watch yourself; there are reporters all around." Priya nudged her, nodding toward the lively crowd, but she wore an amused smile at Y/N's words.

"I'll behave if he does," she said, scowling.

"Good luck, then," —Priya's gaze flickered between Jefferson and Y/N— "because he'd headed this way."

Y/N had to resist the urge to groan loudly as Priya slipped away, offering her an apologetic shrug as she did so, but Y/N couldn't really blame her. Realistically, as Jefferson approached her, giving an annoyingly nonchalant smile when he caught her eye, nodding to her in greeting, Y/N knew Priya would have to let her handle it — still, she would've rathered Priya stick around to restrain her from throttling him.

Her eyes flickered down to her glass; for a brief moment, she regretted having already drank all of it.

"Attorney General L/N."

When Y/N looked back up, Jefferson stood only feet in front of her, a hand tucked into his pocket and the other holding a shallow glass of whiskey. She was too tired to even glare.

"Secretary Jefferson." Her voice was thick with resentment. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He shrugged, glancing about the room as he came up beside her. She sighed internally. "Well, it's an open event, isn't it? 'M here for the same reason as everyone else."

"To donate to my campaign, you mean?" Y/N folded her arms, and he grinned.

"I was referrin' to the open bar." He nodded toward the edge of the room, taking a sip of his whiskey as if to prove his point.

Y/N scoffed. "All that family money you're freeloading on, and you're still looking for free booze? You're such a fucking cheapskate."

"Language, Ms. Attorney General," he said, scandalized tone entirely contrived. She rolled her eyes. "Besides, it's much more satisfyin' to be drinkin' on your dime. I appreciate the generosity."

"Believe me, it wasn't meant for you." He frowned. "Is there really nowhere better for you to be on a Friday night than getting drunk at one of my campaign events?"

"Not really."

"That's almost sad." She looked at him with disdain, and despite how patronizing her tone was, he didn't look offended in the least.

"Aw, can't I just wanna hang out with you?" he asked, brow furrowed. "James was busy, so I figured this was the next best thing."

"Because we're best friends now?"

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "I mean, don't flatter yourself. James 'n Dolley are still both far ahead of you on that list. And then there's Lafayette, too. And even Burr, really, but—"

"I get it," she cut him off, her cheeks flaring with heat as he wore a self-satisfied grin.

"But, hey, you're up there, too. Don't worry," he assured her, and she couldn't even bring herself to come up with some kind of biting retort.

"Right."

A moment passed in annoyed silence (well, Y/N was annoyed; realistically, Jefferson was enjoying himself), and Y/N glared down at the distinct lack of wine still sitting at the bottom of her glass. She didn't want to let him have the reaction he was looking for from her.

"You should leave," she said bluntly, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going to give you what you want and make myself look bad by having security throw you out. So you're going to get nothing out of being here," she hissed. "Please, just leave. You stick to your campaign, and I'll stick to mine."

"C'mon, now, where's the fun in that?"

"I'm just trying to fundraise; can't you leave that alone?" Her teeth were gritted as she spoke, and his smile was broadening; he was seemingly taking pleasure in how quickly she was getting worked up, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She just wanted him out. "Some of us can't just ride it out on daddy's money. We aren't all heirs to millions."

He quirked a brow. "Sounds like a personal problem."

"It is. That's my point," she scoffed. "I know we disagree on literally everything, but outright classism is stooping low, even for you."

"If you really need money, 'm sure there are a couple Super PACs on Capitol Hill that'd be glad to fork over a couple million." A mischievous glint shone in his eyes with his words, and he glanced back at her, taking another sip of his drink. Her glare didn't waver.

"If you're trying to create ammunition against me, it isn't going to work," she warned him. "You're wasting your time."

"Well, I'm hurt, now, Y/N." He frowned, free hand held to his heart. "Thought we were friends. Maybe I just came to see you."

Her huff was heavy, and he couldn't maintain his mild expression, his stupid, smug grin cracking through the facade. "We aren't on a first name basis, Jefferson."

He managed a pout. "After all these years? Aw, sweetheart, 'm devastated," he said, and when she looked away from him, her furious gaze instead turning to the hotel ballroom before her, the corners of his lips quirked. "We were even coworkers, once. Now, what happened to that?"

"As if we got along while we were working together." She didn't meet his eyes. "You've always been fixated on sabotaging my career, so I guess I'm not surprised that this is no different."

"Hang on, I never sabotaged your career," he said defensively, but when she cast him a disbelieving glance, his eyes flashed mischievously. "You did that perfectly well all on your own."

"I'm eight points ahead of you in the polls." She eyed him disdainfully. He shrugged.

"Don't get too cocky, now; the debates haven't even started," he replied, undeterred, "I've just gotta wait till the whole country gets to see you on live TV makin' a mockery of your party."

"Everyone knows people only watch the debates for confirmation bias," Y/N said dryly, again turning away from him. "You may as well drop out now. You've got no shot at the presidency."

He hummed skeptically. "I dunno about that, sweetheart—"

"Don't call me that," she seethed, but her annoyance only seemed to spur him on.

"So hostile," he sighed. "Now I guess I don't have to feel guilty that I'm stealin' all your donors, hm?"

"All my donors resent your policies almost as much as I do." Y/N couldn't maintain her anger, although she remained annoyed. Was this really his best shot at derailing her fundraiser? "Go back to pandering to Citizens United; you won't have too much luck with my pool of attendees."

"You sure? I've been told I can be real charmin'," he said matter-of-factly, and she huffed out a bitter laugh.

"By who, exactly?"

"Undisclosed sources," he said, shooting her a wink, and she pursed her lips; with the playful grin he wore, her smile was no longer all anger and resentment. "You'll have to take me at my word."

"I don't believe it, but I guess I can't really contest it," Y/N replied, and Thomas's grin broadened at the amusement he could hear seeping into her voice.

He raised a teasing eyebrow. "So you're tellin' me you agree, then?"

"That is not what I'm telling you." Her smile fell flat. Her tone was biting, but she turned away from him, folded her arms, and she could feel the heat rising in back of her neck. Her willing it away had little effect. He looked smug. "I'm saying that if you can't tell me who the sources are, then I can't fact check you, so there's no way to contest your claim. That's what I mean."

She was rambling, and he took another nonchalant sip of his drink, satisfaction obvious in his expression. "Mhm."

"I'm serious. It was a stupid fucking claim, anyway, and you know that wasn't what I said," she said, and the words were biting. Thomas looked down at her mildly, his smirk lazy.

"'Course."

"Stop being so damn condescending," she huffed. "I didn't agree with what you were saying. Now will you shut up about it?"

"What am I doin' wrong, sweetheart?" He folded his arms, turned fully toward her with an inquisitive look and a self-satisfied smile. "I didn't contradict you. You're allowed to think whatever you wanna."

"It's not me 'thinking whatever I want,' I didn't say that you were—" She cut herself off with a scowl as his smile widened, and he raised his eyebrows expectantly. Warmth was flooding her cheeks, by then, and she couldn't even bring herself to finish her sentence, didn't even want to admit aloud what she was defending herself for. She felt ridiculous. He looked unswayed. "God, I refuse to have this conversation. Why do you feel the need to antagonize me every fucking time you see me?"

"'Antagonize' seems extreme," he pointed out, and arrogance laced his voice. "I hardly said a word. All that spiralin' just now was all you."

"Because you were being a dick."

"Hey, all I did was ask an innocent question," he defended. "Why're you gettin' so worked up?"

"Don't act like I'm being irrational," she bit back, eyes narrowed, but he shrugged. "You only came here to get me worked up, and you know it. Stop treating me like a child."

"I'd never. I entirely respect you." She eyed him skeptically. He nudged her arm. "'S okay to get a little flustered now 'n then. I know I've got that kinda effect on people."

"I'm not flustered," she replied through gritted teeth, and he winked.

"Sure you aren't. No judgment here," he said, and the disbelief in his voice made her scowl.

"Whatever. I need to get back to fundraising. You're derailing my evening." The words were hard; her tone made it clear she had no interest in any further back-and-forth with him, and when he sighed, it was dramatically weary.

"You don't wanna spend any more time with me?" he asked, brow creased in faux disappointment. "Now, Y/N, I came all this way just for you, and I've gotta say, I'm hurt. Thought you were enjoyin' my company more than that."

"I wasn't."

He clucked his tongue. "Too bad. I was enjoyin' yours."

"You were enjoying making fun of me, you mean?" she countered, and he grinned.

"Believe what you want, but I said all of four words, before, sweetheart—"

"That isn't my name," she interjected, but he didn't stop.

"and you were still busy defendin' yourself for a whole lot longer," he continued. "And I'm not sure why you were defending yourself for so long, really. Didn't I tell you I wasn't passin' any judgment? I get that I make you nervous. It's okay."

"What? You don't make me nervous. I've literally worked with you for years," she huffed, eyes narrowed. When he raised a disbelieving brow, she shifted uneasily where she stood, breaking his gaze. "Whatever. I'm done with this conversation; you can show yourself out."

"Just walkin' away so unceremoniously?" he asked incredulously when Y/N turned on her heel. "Aw, c'mon, now, no hard feelings, alright?"

"Maybe not from you." She glanced back at him over her shoulder, eyeing him disdainfully before starting off in the other direction. He grinned.

"See you at the debates, Y/N," he called after her, and satisfaction lay heavy in his voice. "Always a pleasure."

She rolled her eyes, and her pace didn't stutter, but as she retreated back to the room full of overgenerous millionaires, the tips of her ears still burned. If she lost this election, she'd never hear the end of it.

173 notes · View notes

stellarstarwarsimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Troubled

Pairing - Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Summary - Anakin request: Anakin Skywalker is almost perfect. Too almost perfect for you, but he seems to think differently, and he’s here to remind you of it.

Word Count - 1,104

Warnings - The reader is self conscious about her body, so there are a few negative thoughts about that, but nothing too severe!

You tried not to let the thought worm its way inside of your head, but it was impossible.

Anakin Skywalker was almost perfect.

Oh, he had his flaws. He was one of the most stubborn men you had ever met, his jealousy issues were at times problematic, and he was reckless to the point of almost losing his life on several occasions.

But physically? You couldn’t find a thing wrong with him. Even his imperfections made him more handsome. The scar on the side of his face didn’t distort his features, it enhanced them, the red a beautiful contrast to the bright blue of his eyes. Even his robotic arm, that replaced the one he had lost, was a technological feat that few could accomplish, a work of art that he had manipulated and designed himself. You couldn’t find a single imperfection that didn’t make him more appealing.

Which was why it made no sense that he was so in love with you.

It didn’t take you long at all to find the imperfections when you looked in the mirror. The way your thighs moved, the softness of your belly, and the shape of your nose, to name a few. It was clear that you did not have the same beauty that Anakin possessed.

So why did he look at you like you were the most stunning thing in the whole galaxy? You watched his face in the mirror as his hands traveled up and down your thighs before landing on your stomach. “So beautiful.” He murmured as he ducked his head into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that sent chills along your body.

How could you believe his words though? When the proof was right there in front of you?

Anakin seemed to notice the direction your thoughts had turned. It wasn’t as if he could read your mind, but the two of you had become so close over the years that it seemed as if he had some sort of sense about what you were thinking and feeling. Sometimes, it was so useful when you couldn’t voice your emotions, only to find out that you didn’t have to. Other times however, when you were afraid of sounding or looking ridiculous, like right now, you wished he couldn’t. He lifted his head, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked into your eyes through the mirror. “You’re upset.” He stated. “What’s wrong?”

You turned in his arms so you didn’t have to stare at the reflection anymore, and buried your own face in the side of his neck. “Nothing,” you mumbled against his skin. “Let’s go to bed, Ani.” You said, closing your eyes as you felt him stiffen at your words.

He knew when you were lying. He always knew when you were lying, and even if he hadn’t been a Jedi, you were sure he could tell because of how lousy you were at it. “It’s not nothing.” Anakin said, pulling back and gripping your chin in his hand so you had to look up at him. “Why are you lying to me?”

Still, you attempted to avoid his gaze, glancing down at the leather of his glove to keep from looking into those alluring blues. “I’m not lying to you! It’s - It’s stupid.” You said, hoping he would drop the subject.

Of course he didn’t. “If it’s so stupid then why don’t you tell -”

“I was thinking about how handsome you are!” You interrupted, finally meeting his eyes, embarrassment heating up your cheeks.

Your answer took him aback that was for sure. For a moment he seemed too stunned to know what to say. You would have enjoyed rendering him speechless if not for the lingering self-consciousness. “How handsome I am?” He repeated, as if unsure he had heard you correctly.

“Too handsome,” you said, glancing back down at the ground as you bit your lip. “Too handsome for me.” You whispered, almost hoping that he wouldn’t be able to hear it.

He did though. After a few moments, his hand drifted from your chin to your hair, running through it delicately while you felt his gaze on you. When he spoke, it was in a quiet, disbelieving tone. “You don’t see it do you?”

Not knowing what he was talking about, you shook your head.

Anakin gripped your hips once more, and turned you around so that the both of you were facing the mirror again. When you tried to look away, he shook his head and guided your face forward with his fingers until you were looking at the reflection of the two of you.

Once again you were struck by how . . . out of place you looked next to someone as attractive as him.

He seemed to be having different thoughts. “You’re stunning,” he murmured, his gaze shamelessly following each line and curve of your body. “Your shape makes every woman you walk by envious,” Anakin said, his hand trailing down your side in a gentle caress. “Your eyes outshine the galaxy.” Your eyes drifted to the ground, his loving compliments making heat rush to your face and your stomach fill with butterflies. “And your smile?” He continued, tilting your face to the side so he could look at you. “A minute never passes by that I don’t think about how much I love it.”

His very words caused that smile to form on your face, and you playfully shoved at him. “Stop it, Skywalker.”

Anakin pulled you back against him so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. “Never,” He replied, his own grin on his lips as he nuzzled once more into your neck. “Not until you say that you’re beautiful.”

“Ani . . .” You whined, trying to move away from him once more, but his grip was relentless.

He shook his head, “I’m not letting you go until you say it.”

You let out a sigh, knowing how stubborn he could be. “All right, I’m beautiful.”

“See?” Anakin pulled back just enough for you to see his smiling face. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“You’re still holding me.” You teased, looking down at his arms.

“Am I?” He asked, smirking at you. “Guess you’ll have to make me let go then.”

You let out a squeal as Anakin lifted you into the air, carrying you over to your bed where he laid down on top of you, and in the moments before he distracted you with his breath-taking kisses, you couldn’t help but notice something.

Anakin was even more beautiful when he was looking and smiling at you.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x you #star wars imagine

190 notes · View notes

hale-13 · 3 years ago

Text

Engulfed

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 30(!!!) Prompt - Crying

It’s just all too much. Everything is too much. It’s been a year and Peter can’t stand to do anything but sit here on this roof and ruminate until his mind goes blank.

Words: 2146, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Roger Harrington

TW: Depression, Survivor’s Guilt

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter can I speak with you real quick?” Mr. Harrington called as the final bell of the day rang and students started abandoning the class in droves. Ned shared a commiserating look with him as he finished packing up his things and left the room; leaving Peter to approach Mr. Harrington’s desk nervously and stand in front of it, shifting his weight back and forth nervously. “Oh!” Mr. Harrington said, holding up his arms in surrender as he closed the door behind the last student. “You can relax, you aren’t in trouble!”

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and let some of the tension drain from him muscles. “I’m not?”

Harrington raised an eyebrow at him, “Have you done something to warrant being in trouble?”

“No!” Peter said, his voice breaking a little on the end. “No sir!”

His teacher gave him a suspicious look but didn’t push it, instead gesturing for Peter to sit down in one of the empty desks as he perched on the edge of his own desk. Peter dropped his bag and sat, trying to keep his fingers from twitching from the anxiety strumming through him. Harrington observed him for a moment longer before sighing and handing Peter a folder. With curiosity, Peter opened it and paled considerably as he cycled through his latest test grade in addition to his final paper and project of the nine week grading period. There wasn’t a single grade above a ‘C’.

“So I wanted to talk to you before I handed these back tomorrow,” his teacher said gently, pulling a free chair up to the desk Peter was seated at and pulling the folder from his slack fingers. “Peter this isn’t the work I’m used to you turning in. What’s going on?”

“I uh,” Peter said, mind blanking as he flipped through his term paper that was absolutely coated in copious amounts of red ink. “I don’t know. I worked… I mean I spent… I don’t know,” he stuttered out, feeling untethered and confused.

Harrington sighed and, carefully, pried Peter’s fingers from the folder and closed it, setting it down on the desk. “You’ve seemed a little overwhelmed recently,” he said gently. “Most of your teachers have noticed it and this isn’t the only class where your work has taken a bit of a nose-dive. I know that you guys don’t always want to talk to teachers and school administrators about what’s going on in your personal life but, Peter, we’re here if you need it okay?”

Peter nodded, a little dumbly, his tongue too thick and dry to form words. He felt dizzy – he was turning in failing work in more than one class? “I uh…,” he cleared his throat and tried to wet his mouth, “I guess I have been a little… distracted recently but I’m okay,” he said and tried to hide his flinch at how unconvincing his voice sounded. He was fine right? “I’m sorry about the work, I know I can’t make up the test grade but is there any… uh… any extra credit I can do? I’ll do anything!”

“It’s alright,” Harrington said, picking the folder back up and standing. “I’m going to let you retake the test on Monday and if you write an analysis of what was wrong with your essay and correct the issues I’ll regrade it, same with the project. You’ll need to have them both to me Monday morning I can’t offer more than a ‘B’ on any of them but it should help your grade and make sure you don’t lose your scholarship.”

Peter felt like someone had ripped the floor out from under him and he had to grip the desk tightly. “My scholarship,” he whispered horrified and Harrington gave him a guilty look.

“You’ll have to speak with your other teachers on Monday about extra credit and make-up work but I believe all of them will be willing to help out,” Harrington passed the folder back to Peter who took it with numb and trembling fingers. “It’ll be fine Peter.”

“Right,” he said, feeling like he was underwater and standing shakily. “Thanks Mr. Harrington, I’ll go work on these now.” He never heard the man respond nor did he remember much of his walk home, the next thing he was aware of was standing in his room, his hoodie a little damp from the mist that had descended on the city and the barely-there drizzle that had started. Peter dropped his bag with a thump to the floor and collapsed into his desk chair.

He had work to do and he did so at an absolutely feverish pace. Reading back through his paper he had no idea how he had thought it was even marginally acceptable to turn in. He hadn’t even bothered looking at his project yet but he knew that it would look the much the same and he could already feel his gut twisting into tight knots as he considered the work he would be putting into it over the rest of the weekend.

By the time he had finished, his eyes were dry and crusty and the rain was pounding in earnest against his bedroom window; the only light coming from his desk lamp and the flickering streetlight outside his window. He sat back and blinked furiously, staring at the window with his eyes blurring in and out of focus. He could feel his heart speed up and shook his head once, hard, before jumping from his seat and stripping out of his clothes to pull on his suit.

“Hello Peter,” Karen said brightly as his HUD flickered and readings started to populate. “It is past-,”

“Mute Karen,” Peter said, voice croaking and shaky as he popped his fingers and neck. “Disable HUD and go dark.” It wasn’t often that he shut down his entire suit and went out the way he used to – just him with no extra tech – but sometimes it (and Karen) did effect his senses. And sometimes, like tonight, he just needed the silence.

He opened up his window, reveling in the cool air that creeped into his room and the drops of rain that stuck against his limbs like ice cubes. He paused for just a moment before firing a web through the fog to latch onto the building across the street, swinging out into the weather.

As he took slow laps around Queens, he let his mind drift and his body to just run on complete auto-pilot. He rarely saw any sort of major crime in rain and fog like this and his Spider Sense was quiet in his mind as he swung. Without Karen active and with his suit dark, he didn’t have his heater or GPS or access to his phone or the police scanner but he was fine with all of that. Content to just swing until he couldn’t.

The ‘until he couldn’t’ came a lot soon than he thought, his numb finger slipping on a web and sending him careening onto the top of a building where he rolled and ended up on his back, staring up at the moonless and starless night sky and the thick drops of rain. He laid there for just a moment longer, stunned and taking stock, but nothing hurt too much, he just felt detached.

With no small effort, Peter sat up and scooted over to sit with his back against the roof access, staring out over Queens but unable to see more than a few hundred feet ahead of him. His eyes unfocused and he felt his mind slowing down – blank and quiet finally.

“Do you know what time it is?” His mentor’s voice should have surprised him but, even drifting off the way he was, it was impossible to not hear the loud repulsers of the Iron Man armor. He touched down on the roof to the left of Peter and his face plate shifted up, keeping him dry from the rain but reveling his face that was a mix of disapproving and concerned. Peter just shrugged.

“Sorry,” he said, voice hoarse and monotonous in the gloom. Tony furrowed his brows at him.

“You good kiddo?”

“Sure,” Peter said, looking out over the roof top again. “Fine.”

“Right,” Tony said, his voice disbelieving. “Well its past your curfew buddy and you’re completely soaked. You okay with me giving you a lift home?” Peter nodded without consideration. He was cold and he couldn’t really feel his fingertips – getting a ride home on the Iron Man express was definitely preferable than walking. “Hop on then,” Tony motioned to his back as he turned and, after a moment to psych himself up for it, Peter stood slowly and wrapped his arms around Tony’s neck.

The armor was warm and the flaps prevented Peter from getting pestered by too many of the remaining raindrops on their flight. He let his eyes slip closed as they flew, content to drift, which he realized was a mistake when he opened them a few minutes later and realized Tony had taken them to the Tower instead. “This isn’t my apartment,” he said, dropping down to land on the over-large balcony of the penthouse so that Tony could step out of the armor.

“Nope,” he agreed, shuffling Peter inside and carefully pulling his mask over his face and dropping a towel around his shoulders. “You’re staying here tonight – I know May’s working third.”

The water dripping from his damp hair onto his neck made him shiver but Peter made no move to dry off with the towel – standing just inside the entrance to the penthouse and staring ahead at his mentor who clucked his tongue and started to dry Peter’s hair off himself. “What’s going on Pete?” He asked as he rubbed the terry cloth through Peter’s curls. “This isn’t you.”

“Nothing,” Peter said, his voice sounding emotionless, “I’m fine.”

The look Tony leveled him with was that of pure disbelief but he herded Peter toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Go take a warm shower and change. I’ll make some hot chocolate and meet you in the living room when you’re done.”

Peter nodded his assent and made his way toward his en suite bathroom. The Spidey suit was sticking wetly to his clammy skin and it took some doing to get out of it but it was worth it to slip into the fancy shower his room at the Tower offered. He stood for an untold amount of time under the burning spray of water and felt the tension leave his body, his emotions swirling confusingly in his head and leaving him nearly dizzy. Deciding he couldn’t put it off any longer, Peter grabbed the towel from the heated rack and dried off, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie before making it back to the living room.

In his time away, Tony had made one of the only things he could in the kitchen: hot chocolate from scratch (a recipe from Rhodey and his college years) and was settled on the overly large couch with a pile of throw blankets. Peter sank into the nest and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, accepting the mug his mentor offered and taking a sip of the steaming drink.

“Alright out with it,” Tony said, sitting to face Peter, the expression on his face open. “Something’s going on buddy but you can tell me okay?”

“It’s October thirteenth,” Peter blurted before biting his lip.

“October thirteenth?” Tony asked with a furrowed brow. “What…?”

“Uncle Ben died a year ago,” Peter whispered, curling up further into himself. From next to him Tony let out a sigh of air.

“Oh kiddo,” he said, voice sad and filled with understanding. Peter sniffed once and felt a hot tear leak down his cheek. He didn’t bother wiping it away. “There’s… not really anything that I can say that will make it better,” Tony said as he scooted closer and sat his mug of coffee on the table in front of them. “I know that from experience but, if you ever want to talk about him you can always come to me.”

Peter nodded once and was surprised when, just a moment later, Tony reached out and pulled Peter tightly into his side in a hug. Peter’s mind went blank for a moment and then he felt his eyes well with tears that fell in silent waves down his cheeks. He had felt so overwhelmed, so underwater for weeks leading up to this day and he just…

“Let it out buddy,” tony said, pulling him in tighter and running calloused fingers through Peter’s still-damp hair. “It’s alright.”

With that permission, Peter turned himself more fully into his mentor, curling himself in tighter and letting his eyes cry themselves out.

It felt like catharsis.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump30 #Prompt: Crying #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

16 notes · View notes

chaseatinydream · 4 years ago

Text

pirate king (63) || atz

The Treasure stops at Tortuga.

After the Cayman Islands, your captain has ordered the crew to set sail for Tortuga once more, sailing up the Windward passage between Santiago De Cuba and Hispaniola, citing the need to replenish supplies at the pirate town and get repairs on the Treasure done. And sailing is uneventful… for most part. It seems like the skies have finally cleared now, soft blue both in the sky above and the sea beneath, and you’re enjoying the feeling of the sea breeze on your cheeks as you lie back on the forecastle deck with the morning sun gently warming your skin.

It’s been a chaotic past few days, with constant worries taking a toll on your mind and the threat of Commander Kang taking you back to the Royal Navy on your mind. Unfortunately, you realise that you never quite got the chance to ask him why the Royal Navy wanted you, but there was nothing you could do about it now. On the bright side, though, your master had announced to the crew that the poison had successfully been treated with the antidote that Commander Kang had provided, and with sufficient food, water and rest, the young battlemaster would make a full recovery over time. He was fine, the ship would be alright, Commander Kang would no longer hunt you down, and everyone was happy.

“Why do you look upset?”

Well, perhaps not everyone.

You don’t bother opening your eyes, recognising that voice with your ears alone. A small, meaningless smile quirks up one corner of your lips, more for his benefit than any real happiness, you’ve had a lot to think about, but neither do you really want to face them at all. Instead, you ask, “Are we there yet?”

“Captain says we should be reaching any time soon now.” Jongho replies, the younger battlemaster taking a seat next to you on the deck, you can hear the planks creaking under his weight. Hongjoong had spoken about stopping by a small village along the coast of Cuba to stock up on fresh water before making the sail to Tortuga, but while the rest of the crew have been chattering excitedly about going onto land once more, some discussing about the things they want to buy Yunho to cheer him up while he’s still confined to bed rest, but even though you try, you can’t seem to build up any enthusiasm about it in the least.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Jongho says abruptly, and you sigh, fondly exasperated, Jongho has always had a penchant for being straightforward and unabashed in asking questions that need to be asked. The silence drags on between the two of you, and finally you accept that Jongho is insistent on not leaving until you give him a satisfactory answer. Cracking open your eyes, you tilt your head to the left to look at the younger battlemaster, he’s sitting cross legged with his cutlass lying across his lap, eyes fixed firmly on the ocean before you. In the distance, you see a line across the horizon, that must be the coastal village your captain had spoken about.

“I’m fine.” You let your eyes slip shut once more, and you don’t even need to see Jongho’s expression to know he doesn’t believe you in the least. You hear a clearly disbelieving snort escape him and your chest shakes slightly in amusement.

“You haven’t been talking to Sanie-hyung for the past few days either.” He adds on bluntly, and a soft breath escapes you involuntarily; he’s noticed? Although, you suppose, it must have pretty obvious, you and your master used to be joined at the hip, and now, you can’t even look him in the eye without seeing the pain there.

Pain you caused.

“I’m fine.” You repeat again, more softly this time, as if you find it difficult to believe your own words. “I’m just…” You pause, rolling the breath around on the tip of your tongue as you attempt to find an appropriate word for it, “I’m just… tired.”

Tired is the best word you can come up with at the moment. You’re tired of so much, of the constant worrying if each day will be your last, of the repeated pushing away of your master even as he tries to convince you to tell your captain about your condition, of what will happen to them once you… once you…

Leave.

You want to tell someone, anyone, let your captain know. He could do something, you want to believe, but deep down somewhere, you know it’s hopeless; there is no cure. Deep in your bones, you have been made to be something temporal, and to tell Captain, to make him worry for you even after he has done so much for you already, knowing that he will blame himself when he inevitably fails to save you… you can bear the dying, but not the guilt.

“I don’t see how that has to do with you ignoring Sanie-hyung.” Jongho tells you, a frown on his face and you find yourself staring at him, soft cheeks still rounded like those of a child, dark, earnest eyes that shine with only honesty and genuine concern. You remember the time back when he had rescued you during your first battle with the Royal Navy, how you’d accidentally shot him in the arm, how he’d treated you to pastries, how he’d sung so beautifully so many nights on the deck for the rest of the crew to listen to. You don’t even realise you’re staring until Jongho snaps his fingers right in front of your face with a confused expression, looking mildly worried.

“Chin Hae? Chin Hae, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m okay.” You laugh softly, there’s something warm in your chest, like you’re wrapping up those precious memories and holding them close to you, they’re so warm they burn. You give him a bright smile, rise to your feet and stretch your arms above your head before he can say any more, grinning down at him, you’ll miss him so much. “Why did you come find me in the first place? Was there anything you wanted?”

“No, I-” Jongho tries to say, but before he can continue, there are a set of quick, light footsteps behind you, and the two of you turn simultaneously to see Yeosang hopping up the steps, as fast as his feet can carry him and a grin so bright it rivals the sun. “Chin Hae! Chin Hae!”

“That’s me.” You say jokingly, amused as the navigator dashes up to you, bouncing up and down and excitement overflowing from him. “What is it?”

“I made something!” Yeosang holds your left hand, bopping up and down excitedly on his toes and you make an ‘oh’ shape with your mouth, Yeosang has been holed up in the captain’s cabin for the last few days making something that he hasn’t allowed anyone to see. “Do you want to see it?” He says, so thrilled you can’t help but tease him a little.

“Hmm…” You rub your chin with your stump, pretending to consider the question, Yeosang practically hanging on to whatever that’s about to leave your mouth. Then you sigh dramatically, shrug and say slowly, “Well… maybe I’m not that interested-”

The way Yeosang’s mouth falls open sends you into a fit of laughter, wiping the small tears at the corner of your eyes, you tug at Yeosang’s hand, ignoring the flabbergasted expression on his face. “I’m just joking!” You laugh, and Yeosang breathes out a sigh, clearly relieved. “Well then! Let’s go see what you’ve been up to! Jongho-oppa, are you coming along?”

“Yes, but-” Jongho tries to say, but before he can ask you any more, both you and Yeosang already halfway down the stairs, chattering excitedly, and even though there’s an infallible smile on your lips, Jongho can’t help but feel something is very, very wrong.

>>>

“Okay, sit here!” Yeosang practically forces you to sit on the bed and scurries over to his work table, while Seonghwa might be the official carpenter of the ship, Yeosang too, has interest in developing his wood working skills in more creative ways. This time, he bustles around carefully at the worktable tucked in the corner of the cabin, snapping at you when you so much as breathe in its direction. With a resigned sigh, you simply flop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling, counting the number of boards there.

Jongho watches you silently, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he tries to figure out what on earth could have happened. He usually sleeps the latest, choosing to practice his guitar late into the night when everyone else is asleep, and realises that you’ve been sleeping much later than usual, not going to bed when you usually do, or choosing to be alone on the forecastle deck, like you had been earlier that day. And when he wakes up early for his morning exercise runs around the deck, you’re already there, and he can see prominent dark shadows hanging underneath your eyes.

He worries. He knows he finds it difficult to speak his mind sometimes, but he watches, and he worries. This isn’t like you. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were avoiding San. And from the way you had subtly tried to avoid his question earlier, he’s starting to believe that you are.

“Here!” Yeosang nearly trips over a stray book on the floor in his excitement but he doesn’t seem to care, telling you to hold out your hand and close your eyes. Smiling, you humour him, squeezing your eyes shut, your left hand outstretched. And gently, you feel something hard being put in your hand, it’s a little weighty, made presumably out of smooth, polished wood. Your fingers feel the sides, it seems to have an odd shape, and you tug at Yeosang’s sleeve, even with your eyes closed, you know he’s beaming uncontrollably. “Can I see it now?”

“Yes! Open your eyes!” Yeosang replies immediately, voice bright and bubbly, and you crack open an eye, full of anticipation as you gaze down at the object in your hand. And you freeze.

It’s an oddly shaped object, made of two pieces of hard, dark coloured wood. They’re joined in the middle by some sort of joint in a Y shape, two curved prongs protruding from a cup, the inside stuffed with wool. When you raise it up to your face to look at it more carefully, you see a long screw (where did he get that, hadn’t Seonghwa told you those were pretty hard to find once?) connecting the two pieces beneath the joint. Each piece of wood seems to have been smoothed out carefully by hand, so they both curve beautifully towards the centre, but as intricate and amazing as it looks… what is it supposed to do?

“Uhm…” You frown a little, turning it over in your hand. Jongho looks similarly confused. “What… what is it?”

“It’s a prosthetic hand! Wait, give me a second.” He says, reaching for his worktable and pulling a mess of leather straps and buckles from the pile of tools there all while you sit there, simply confused. Prosthetic hand? What did he mean by prosthetic hand? A small dowel drops to the ground in his rush but he doesn’t seem to notice, hurrying over to you and holding out the strap expectantly, as if you’re supposed to know what to do with it. “Hold out your…” he says, waving vaguely at your left arm, and frowning, you raise it up to him. It’s still covered in bandages, more for the sake of convincing your crewmates that the amputation wound is healing, but you know underneath the white cloth is skin… that hopefully isn’t crumbling. Yeosang shifts to the left, taking the contraption from you and attaching what seems to be a leather harness to it, his fingers fly over the buckles so quick your eyes can barely follow him.

“Here, tell me if it hurts, okay?” The navigator looks so concerned you nod immediately, while Jongho rises from his seat at the captain’s table to look more closely at what Yeosang is doing. Yeosang first slides the cup of the wooden contraption over the stump of your wrist, the woolen padding there fitting snugly around it, and then he pulls the leather straps over your forearm. One goes around the center of your arm, another just beneath the elbow crease, and another above. In the end, the device is strapped securely to your arm, and you shift your arm a little, studying the device at the end where your hand should be.

“It fits! That’s amazing. I mean, of course it works, I made it to work, but...” Yeosang beams excitedly, moving forward to sit next to you on the bed. “Let me show you how it works… Jongho-ah, fetch me that cup on captain’s table, will you?”

Still puzzled, the younger battlemaster does as he says, moving over to pick up the wooden mug there. Yeosang peers into the cup, realises there’s still liquid inside and knocks it back before you can tell him to empty it into the sea instead, apparently too excited to bother moving over to the portholes. Then he makes a face of instant regret, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and making a noise that sounds suspiciously like “rum-ugh” before he sets the cup to the side, taking the prosthetic hand in his flesh and blood ones and cradling it gently.

“Let me show you how it works.” He says, and moves his fingers to the screw at the base of the cup over your stump. Both yours and Jongho’s eyes follow in fascination as he unscrews the long metal screw. As he does, your mouth falls open at the sheer ingenuity of it, the further he unscrews it, the wooden piece that isn’t attached to the cup slowly moves closer to its partner, thus causing the two pieces to come together. “Look, you can hold things with it.” Yeosang says, as if you aren’t on the verge of shock, and places the cup into its hold, before tightening the grip once more. When he’s finally satisfied that it’s not going to fall out, he lets go, and you feel the weight of the cup resting on your wrist, but it doesn’t slip out of your hands, and he… he…

“It’s amazing.” You breathe, transfixed, and your right hand reaches up to loosen the grip yourself. When you do, the cup falls out of the grip and Jongho manages to catch it for you, even with his eyes comically wide and fixed on the mindblowing contraption in your hand. “This is amazing, Yeosang. How did you think of this?”

Yeosang has never looked as proud in the entire time you’ve known him, but he fights to hide the positively gleeful smile on his face, scratching the back of his head with shy embarrassment. “Oh, I didn’t do much… Seonghwa-hyung helped with the woodwork and polishing… Captain was the one who’s been staying up at night to come up with the idea. I just made it possible. I hope you-” He doesn’t even manage to finish the sentence before you throw yourself into his arms, subconsciously trying to squeeze every bit of breath from his lungs just so he knows how grateful you are. Now that you look around, you can see scraps of paper tossed on the paper here and there, rough sketches done by your captain’s hand, the aggressive crossing out and the amount of thought that has been put into this.

“Thank you, Yeosang-oppa… Thank you.” You manage to croak out, voice nearly overcome with emotion. Yeosang beams at you, looking satisfied, his work has come to fruition, and there’s nothing he could want more. Jongho lets out a sigh of relief too, glad that this has managed to get you to show some true emotion on your face, instead of the mild expressions that you’ve been wearing for the last few days, mere shadows of the lively, expressive person you had once been.

All of a sudden, there’s the ringing of the ship’s bell from above and the voice of your ship’s quartermaster rings across the deck, down to the cabin and you perk up, Mingi’s bellow drifting to your ears.

“We’ve arrived at shore!”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

105 notes · View notes

thejilyship · 4 years ago

Note

Jily + arguing + 'You're not understanding this, James.'

I made it fem!jily, because that’s what I wanted to do.

This did get away from me.

2.4k words

ff.net | ao3

They argue all the time now.

When Lily complains to Mary about this, while Jamie is out with her friends so there’s no chance of her overhearing, Mary reminds her that they have always argued. That there has never been a time where they knew one another and didn’t argue.

Lily doesn’t know how to explain to Mary that it’s different now.

That if she sits next to Jamie at breakfast and accidentally bumps her arm against Jamie’s arm, then the incident will spiral into a heated argument about the importance of personal space and Lily listing out the top ten reasons she’s never sitting next to Jamie again.

Only Lily doesn’t have a list of any reasons to never sit next to Jamie again, and she leaves the table feeling frustrated and a little sad that she can’t even enjoy breakfast with her friend anymore.

If they are partnered together in class, if they have to do patrols together, if they run into one another in the owlery, it doesn’t seem to matter what they’re doing or where they are, they will find a way to be at each other’s throats and it’s not fun like it used to be. It’s not playful, it’s not entertaining, Lily no longer seeks out these interactions. She avoids them, and so she’s taken to avoiding Jamie as well, since she can’t seem to have one without the other.

And fighting with Jamie like this, it just hurts.

Mary just laughs at her when she tells her that she’s no longer speaking to Jamie. Wishes her luck and flicks her on the tip of her nose.

They are roommates, so avoiding her entirely is quite the task.

Lily still resents getting flicked.

She’s head girl, so it should be easy to avoid doing rounds with Jamie. But one night when she’s meant to patrol with Remus, Jamie showed up instead.

“No,” Lily said, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. “No, I’m not patrolling with you.”

“Then you’re patrolling by yourself.” Jamie was glaring at her, like Lily was the reason that Jamie had been such a pain in the ass lately. “Remus isn’t feeling well, and he asked me to cover for him. I didn’t know that he was set to patrol with you or I would have told him to ask someone else.”

Lily frowned.

She didn’t want to patrol with Jamie. But she couldn’t patrol by herself, not after what Wilkes and Mulcieber did to that Ravenclaw boy last week.

And Jamie knew that. Lily wanted to believe that even if they had been sleeping facing opposite directions simply to spite one another, Jamie wouldn’t leave her to patrol the corridors alone. (At least, Lily was facing the opposite direction. They both slept with their canopy pulled entirely shut, so there was no way for Lily to be certain that Jamie was facing away from her, but she had a feeling.)

They stood across from one another outside of the Gryffindor common room, silently glowering until the portrait opened and a fourth year walked out, saw the two of them and quickly muttered something about having left their book in the library.

Lily waved them off and then sighed.

“Alright, fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

“I love and appreciate the enthusiasm, Evans.”

“Spending time with people who openly can’t stand me is one of my favorite things to do. Especially people who were my friend up until a couple of weeks ago.”

Jamie tilted her head back and forth with a mocking look on her face and Lily clicked her tongue.

“What did I even do? Why have you been so angry with me?”

Jamie crossed her arms over her chest and huffed.

Lily ground her teeth together and clenched her fists. Fine. They didn’t have to talk.

They remained silent until they reached the next corridor.

“You’re the one who’s angry.” Jamie muttered.

“Me?” Lily answered immediately, as though they hadn’t walked in silence for two and a half minutes. “It seems like everything I do bothers you! You threw a pair of my shoes out the window yesterday because they were on ‘your side of the room!’”

Jamie shrugged. “Mary accio-ed them back.”

“You still threw them out the window!”

“Okay, well you charmed all of my robes lime green! Slughorn gave me detention for that!”

“Because you spilled ink all over my history essay!”

“Well you wouldn’t look at me while I was talking to you!”

“Why can’t we get along anymore?” Lily shouted, startling a pair of Hufflepuffs as they rounded the corner.

“Get back to your dorm,” Jamie snapped at them, and they exchanged looks before hurrying off. “I don’t know.” She said this to Lily.

“Well I hate it!” Lily carded her hand through her hair. “Why aren’t we friends anymore?”

Jamie’s tense shoulders relaxed a bit, and her voice was quieter, “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough.” She looked over at Jamie, trying to catch her eye, trying to find something about the other girl that gave her some kind of hint as to what was really going on. “I hate being upset with you.”

“Well then stop.” Jamie said, purposefully unhelpful. She was trying to start another row. Lily was not going to have it.

“Fine.” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and then dropped her shoulders. “Fine.”

Jamie glanced over at her, cautious and disbelieving.

“Glad that was so easy for you.”

Lily knew how Jamie was when she was needling, when she was looking for a big reaction, and normally she fell for it. But this was the first time in a week that she’d allowed herself to be around Jamie without pretending that the other girl didn’t exist, and she wanted answers. So she wouldn’t be falling for any of Jamie’s taunts.

It had always been hard to be Jamie’s friend.

It had always meant keeping secrets and treading carefully, and while sometimes it had felt like it was all too much, like she was going to explode with the pressure her secret built up inside her heart and her head, most of the time, she just liked being around Jamie. She liked making her smile and talking about classes and doing their homework together. She liked helping Jamie with her hair and teasing her about how her socks never matched. She liked finding excuses to hug her, to sit closer to her in the Great Hall. She liked pretending to need help in Transfigurations so that Jamie would spend extra time explaining things to her. Coming up with reasons why she needed to borrow her jumpers.

Once she pretended to be out of shampoo just so she could ask Jamie if she could borrow hers. She’d spent the entire day distracted.

It had taken Lily an embarrassing amount of time to work out what all of that meant.

It hadn’t been until the end of sixth year when Lily realized that she most certainly fancied Jamie Potter.

And now, two months into their seventh year, Lily was sort of terrified that she was losing her friend before she mustered up the nerve to tell her the truth.

She didn’t want to lose Jamie.

“It’s not easy. Nothing is ever easy when it comes to you.” Lily said. “But you’re my friend and there is clearly something going on. So, until you tell me what it is, I’m not going to shout at you or retaliate anymore. I’m tired of this.”

“Sure. I’ll give that five minutes and you’ll be back to telling me how much you can’t stand me.”

“You’re not understanding this, Jamie.” Lily huffed. “I can’t stand how things are between us right now. I can’t stand that I can’t talk to you like I used to. I can’t stand that you never look at me anymore. I can’t stand a lot of things about this situation that we’ve created, but you? No.” She shook her head, looking back at Jamie.

Her face was al scrunched up and her knuckles were white. She dropped her arms from over her chest and shoved them into the pockets of her cloak.

Lily waited. They made it down two more corridors and Jamie still hadn’t said anything.

“Jamie,” Lily said almost afraid now. Was it too late? Had she accidentally did something that had made Jamie upset with her without realizing it? Had she somehow started all of this.

Jamie swiped at her cheek and turned her head away.

Lily reached out and stopped them both in the middle of the corridor. “Why are you crying?” She asked, not sure if she’d ever seen Jamie cry before. Her worry bubbled up her throat.

“I’m not,” Jamie said quickly, but she was.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Jamie reached up and grabbed a fistful of her own hair. Then she threw her hands in the air and huffed, “I’m gay, Lily.”

Lily stared at her blankly, but when she didn’t continue, Lily nodded. “Yes. I know that. You told me when we were fourteen. You told everyone when we were fourteen. You asked McGonagall if she could make an exception to the dress code so that you could where rainbow socks over your tights. You told Mary and I that you wanted to marry that chaser from the Harpies-”

“I know that you know!” Jamie interrupted. “And I know that we’re friends, and I know that I’ve been a bit of a dick recently, and I know that you’re overly affectionate with all your friends-“

“What are you going on about?” Lily was so confused by the sudden turn in their conversation that she was no longer worried that Jamie didn’t want to be her friend anymore.

“You’re always hugging people! Me, Mary, Remus, Marlene, Alice, Frank- your friends! You hug your friends. And you compliment them all the time, especially Mary, which is fine!” Jamie put her hands up, palms facing Lily who still didn’t have a damn clue what she was going on about. “You’re exceedingly kind and wonderful and all that.”

“Then why have you been fighting with me for the last month! Why have you been acting like you want nothing to do with me?”

“Because it got too hard! I was just trying to put up some boundaries, for my own sake, and then it got a little out of hand.” Jamie’s hands were back in her hair now. “I didn’t mean for things to go this far. I don’t want to be fighting with you all the time, I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Lily chewed on her lip. Lily had, in all likelihood, been quite obvious about how she felt about Jamie, perhaps Jamie had noticed. “Was I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Jamie answered quickly, looking up and down the hall. “Of course, you weren’t.”

“Then what boundaries were you trying to set?”

Jamie opened and shut her mouth a few times before she looked Lily in the eye and just huffed in frustration. She smiled at her, though even that looked frustrated. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You didn’t mean for what to happen?” Lily was going to shake her if she didn’t spit it out. Jamie covered her face with her hands and Lily reached out and grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands down. “Come on, Jamie. We’re so close. Just tell me what happened.”

Jamie took a deep breath, looking down at their hands and then brought her gaze up to meet Lily’s.

“If I did something or said something that made you uncomfortable, just tell me so that I can never do it again. I want to go back to being able to smile at you when you walk in a room instead of feeling like I need to leave immediately.”

The corner of Jamie’s mouth quirked, but then fell back down. “Please don’t smile at me anymore.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Lily, I fancy you. I tried to stop, I didn’t mean to start, but I fancy you and sometimes being your friend is hard.” Lily tightened her grip on Jamie’s wrists and felt as though she’d been frozen. “I don’t mean for it to be hard, and I know that that’s something I have to figure out, clearly in a different way because I’ve mucked everything up recently.”

“Jamie,”

“I know. And like I said, this is for me to work through, I’m not expecting-“

“Jamie shut up.” Lily let go of her wrists and took a small step back.

“Rude.” But she stopped rattling on.

“Do you mean that? Do you really fancy me?”

Jamie ran her hand through her hair and nodded. “Yes. I do.”

Lily felt laughter pushing through her and she spun around as it erupted, her face splitting into a giant grin. She steadied herself and put her hands on Jamie’s shoulders.

“Did I break you?” Jamie asked, narrowing her brow.

“Maybe,” Lily stepped closer to her, this time so the tips of their shoes were touching. “I have felt like you’ve broken me so many times in the last couple of years.” Jamie seemed to be the frozen one now as Lily leaned forward until their foreheads were resting against one another. “The next time you tell me that you fancy me, can you do it so that it doesn’t sound like an apology?”

Jamie’s eyes were searching her face and Lily slowly brought her hands up from Jamie’s shoulder to cup her face, to brush her thumbs over her cheeks. Jamie’s eyes fluttered closed and then she strained against Lily’s hold until their lips connected.

It was a short kiss, but sweet and full of hopeful disbelief.

“I fancy you, too,” Lily said, her hand pushing through Jamie’s curls.

“Yeah,” Jamie said against her lips, Lily could feel the start of her smile, “I haven’t seen you kiss any of your friends like this before.” Overly affectionate with all your friends. Lily laughed quietly.

“Not like this,” Lily agreed.

The tension that had built up between them over the last month melted away further with every kiss, until Lily felt completely pliable in Jamie’s arms.

When they pulled back, when they had finished smiling dumbly at one another, when they had remembered that they were supposed to be doing rounds and restarted, holding hands this time, Jamie let out a low hum. “I guess I owe Sirius five galleons.”

Lily started laughing.

And Jamie made sure she kept laughing for the rest of rounds.

#jily #jily fic #fem!jily #fem!james #Anonymous

62 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years ago

Text

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 45 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Penultimate chapter! Only one more to go after this! Click here for previous chapters or here if you’d rather read on AO3. xoxo!

And thank you SO MUCH to wonderful betas: @saiphl, @sillylittlecandycane, @tumble4rpdr

Chapter Summary: Courtney forces Adore to have a conversation that she really, really doesn’t want to. (And nobody is surprised at the results except the two of them.)

Chapter 45: Jump the Gun

COURTNEY: It’s really hard to plan a road trip when you’re not talking to me.

COURTNEY: So you’re just doing this silent treatment thing again, really?

COURTNEY: ...

COURTNEY: I broke up with Roy.

COURTNEY: Can we please talk?

It was Wednesday, the night before their graduation, and Adore’s house was teeming with boisterous relatives. At one point, late in the evening, she escaped to the tree house with a sleeping bag, praying that no stray cousins would find her because she was running out of weed and really didn’t want to share. She curled up in a beanbag chair that was years past its prime and lit her last joint.

Courtney certainly was a crafty little bitch. She must have been sitting at the window, waiting to pounce the second Adore’s dim camping lantern turned on, because it was mere minutes before she was climbing up the ladder.

Adore shook her head. She should really have known better, should have just smoked in the dark.

“Why are you ignoring me?” Courtney demanded, once she was fully inside.

Adore scoffed, eyes rolling to the ceiling. At this point, she felt like it was all beyond explaining.

“It’s been over a week,” Courtney continued, voice thick with emotion. Adore avoided looking at her eyes, but it didn’t help--she knew even without looking that they’d be shining with tears. “I thought...I thought we weren’t gonna do that again.”

Adore sighed. She was right, of course. “I’m sorry. I just...I needed a break.”

“Why? A break from what? And for how long?”

“I...I don’t know.”

Courtney sniffled, asking, “Did I do something wrong?” Her voice was so small and sad and fucking pathetic, and it made Adore feel even guiltier than she did already.

“No. You didn’t. I’m sorry,” she sighed. “It’s hard to explain.”

Courtney seemed to accept that, nodding and wiping her eyes, sitting with her feet tucked under her. There was a pause, as she struggled to regain her composure.

“Did you get my texts?” Courtney then asked, chewing on her lip.

“Yup.” Adore took another hit, coughing slightly, resigned to hear all about the Roy drama, which she was sure wasn’t over. “So, what happened? Did you have a fight?”

“No, not really. We just kind of...well, I’ve been feeling like we were drifting apart for awhile, but I didn’t really want to admit it.”

It was news to Adore that they’d been drifting apart. They’d seemed just fine to her at prom. She supposed that maybe she didn’t know Courtney as well as she thought. It figured, given everything else that was going on.

“‘Cause I...I do love him. But, it’s not really fair to either of us to cling to a relationship just because it’s comfortable,” Courtney said, voice soft as she added, “Especially when I...spend so much time thinking about someone else.”

Adore’s head snapped up and she let out a short, incredulous huff. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?”

“You’re already onto some other guy?” she asked, shaking her head.

“Wh-no. Other guy? What? How high are you?”

“You just said you’ve been thinking about someone else,” Adore said crossly.

“Yeah-”

“So, who is it? This fucking new guy you’re thinking about?”

Courtney blinked at her for several seconds before bursting out, “It’s you, you fucking idiot!”

“What...do you mean?” Adore’s mind reeled. She was stoned, and couldn’t fully trust her senses, because it sounded like Courtney was saying…

“I mean…”

Courtney paused, taking a deep breath, even closing her eyes briefly to center herself before she continued.

“I mean that I can’t stop thinking about you and wanting to be with you and…” Courtney wiped a tear from her eye. “And maybe it’s stupid, and maybe you’ll never like me back, but I love you.”

“Love me?” Adore still couldn’t allow herself to believe what Courtney was saying.

“Yes!” Courtney choked back a sob, adding, “I always have. Why do you look so surprised?”

Adore shook her head in stunned disbelief.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me before?” she whispered.

“I...I did! Over and over! What...are you talking about?”

Adore stared at her, unblinking, head still shaking slowly.

“I told you I love you so many times, Adore. All the time!”

“But...I thought...you meant like best friend love. Not like...love love,” Adore said carefully, voice breaking on the last word.

“There’s no difference!” Courtney cried hoarsely.

“Of course there is!” Adore retorted, suddenly extremely irritated. “There’s a big fucking difference!”

“Dory...I have been in love with you since...I don’t know, it feels like my whole life,” Courtney said, tears sliding down her cheeks. “And you’re my best friend. So I don’t...what’s the difference?”

Adore stared at her, the wheels in her head turning, gears grinding slowly until she finally started to comprehend what Courtney was saying.

“But...you’re straight.”

“Says who?”

“You. You said you weren’t gay,” Adore told her.

“When?” Courtney challenged.

“When we were freshman! Here! That time that Muriel told you that we were being inappropriate!”

“So...four years ago, when I was fourteen, I made one comment about not wanting to label myself, and that means that I’m straight forever?” Courtney shook her head, incredulous. “That I can never grow up and figure things out about myself? Seriously?”

“But...well…” Adore faltered. She had a point. But that meant that what she said, today, might be true. Adore’s mind reeled. “So you...love me? Like...”

“Yeah,” Courtney sniffled.

“And you’ve loved me for...a long time?”

“Forever. And...I know we probably should have had this conversation before but I thought...I was so scared that with one false move, I would lose you. Because you’ve cut me off before, without a discussion, without telling me why. And now it seems like you’re trying to do it again, and I didn’t ever want to risk that happening. So…” Courtney trailed off, fresh tears pouring down her cheeks. “So if you don’t want me, just tell me. But please, please don’t hate me. I can’t bear it.”

It was so perfectly absurd. So absolutely stupid. Adore covered her mouth to smother the giggles at first, but soon she couldn’t hide it, the laughter taking over until she was bent over, tears running down her cheeks. What the fucking fuck.

“Do you wanna let me in on the joke?” Courtney asked, arms crossed. Tears trickled down her face, which wore a hurt expression, clearly not understanding why Adore was laughing and taking it quite personally.

“Yeah, no,” Adore gasped for air, still laughing as she blurted out, “I love you too, have since forever, and it’s been killing me because I thought we could never be together...Jesus, we’re both such goddamn morons-”

“Wait. You do?” Courtney’s eyes went wide.

“Uh huh, so much. How could I not? Have you met you?” Adore said.

“Well that’s…” A smile finally broke through, pulling on Courtney’s mouth until a nervous, disbelieving laugh escaped.

“So fucking dumb, I know…” Adore wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, a few residual giggles bubbling out before she pressed her lips together, looking deep into Courtney’s eyes for the first time all night.

Courtney gazed back at her, tears still wet on her cheeks, hands on her knees, chest rising and falling rapidly. She was smiling now, a bit self-consciously, biting on her bottom lip. She hesitated for half a second longer before lunging forward, grabbing fistfuls of Adore’s hair, unleashing years of pent-up passion and anxiety into one singular, perfect kiss.

They had kissed before, over the years, but never like this. There had always been a hesitation, a caveat, one of them holding back. This time, however, it was like diving off a cliff, finally letting go.

Adore’s fingers dug into her waist, pulling her closer, finally letting herself feel everything she’d always resisted. Welcoming the prickles on her skin, the tingling up her spine, the tightness in her abdomen. It was the highest high she’d ever had, and for Adore, that was saying a lot.

It was then, as they rolled over, that the ancient beanbag chair beneath them chose to self-destruct, a seam splitting, little tiny foam spheres bursting free.

“Oh shit! The chair is-”

“Who cares,” Adore murmured, rolling her back the other way, onto the hard wooden floor, going in for another kiss, the feel of Courtney’s bare legs against hers for once not a terrifying and anxiety-provoking experience.

Courtney giggled, returning the kiss with just as much enthusiasm, capturing Adore’s bottom lip between her teeth, coaxing out a breathy whimper as Adore arched forward.

Courtney lifted her head, dizzy with happiness, cupping Adore’s perfect round cheeks. She bit her kiss-swollen lip, giggling slightly. “Your lipstick is all over your face.”

Adore rested her forehead against Courtney’s, catching her breath, and replied, “It’s all over your face, too.”

“Good.” Unable to wipe the silly grin off her face, Courtney leaned in for another kiss, hands tangling into Adore’s hair, a thigh slipping between her legs.

She rolled Adore over onto her back, the movement making more of the bean bag chair spill out. The little foam balls were all around them, blowing around in the night breeze. Courtney felt like she was inside of a snowglobe--which was somehow fitting, because the idea of this moment being forever encapsulated was exactly what she wanted the most.

“Fuck,” Adore groaned, arching up against her. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this…”

“I probably do…” Courtney whispered. “‘Cause I have too…”

She moved her mouth to Adore’s neck, breathing in her scent as she placed a line of kisses down her throat.

“Court?”

“Yeah?”

Fingers gripped her waist, pushing her away slightly, and Courtney pulled away with a soft whimper.

“I just...think maybe we should talk about this. Before…”

“Okay.” Courtney rolled away, breathing heavily. After a few moments, she looked back at Adore. “What...do you want to talk about?”

“Well…” Adore paused. “I don’t know.”

“Do you not want to-”

“No! I mean...no, that’s not..” Adore closed her eyes, doing her best to compose herself, and Courtney took her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“There’s no rush, okay?”

Adore looked back at her, smiling slightly. “Well, we’ve already waited fucking forever.”

“Yeah…” Courtney brought Adore’s hand up to her mouth, brushing a kiss against her fingers.

“But I just, I want to know, like...what exactly is this for you? Are we gonna tell people? What do we say?”

“Well…” Courtney edged herself closer, wanting to feel Adore’s body against hers. “I definitely want to tell everyone. I want people to know how I feel about you.”

She brushed a lock of Adore’s hair away from her face, examining the solemn, almost disbelieving expression in her eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Courtney said. “Besides, everyone will see for themselves tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah? You gonna jump me as I’m getting my diploma?”

“Maybe,” Courtney said, a mischievous smile curling her lips. “Would you be mad?”

“No. Although it might give Muriel a heart attack.”

“She’s had a lot of years to get used to the idea,” Courtney said. “Remember, she’s the one who clocked my crush on you to begin with.”

“Right...when you insisted that you weren’t gay!” Adore exclaimed, suddenly sitting up.

“Well, I didn’t know what I was. I was like...just a 14-year-old who suddenly had my whole family commenting on my sexual preferences. It was weird and embarrassing.”

“Right…”

“The truth is, Dory, I still don’t really know what I am. I guess...I guess I’m bi? But you guys are always saying that’s not a thing.” Courtney looked down, wishing for the billionth time that she was certain about who she was, that there was a way to describe her experience to make people understand.

“We just say that to fuck with Fame,” Adore explained.

“It kinda seems like you believe it.”

“You know what?” Adore shook her head. “You were right all along. Labels don’t matter. Let’s just...be us.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Courtney lunged forward again, wrapping Adore into the tightest hug imaginable, face buried in her hair. They stayed that way, sandwiched together, until Courtney noticed that Adore’s hands were sliding slowly up her back, under her top, and she lifted her head to ask boldly, “Wanna take it off?”

“Okay…” Adore replied softly, almost timidly. But she made no move to do it, so Courtney began to undo the buttons herself, watching Adore’s face.

They’d seen each other undressed, of course, so many times before. But this was decidedly different, and for a second, Adore looked uncomfortable. Until Courtney stopped, leaning in for a soft kiss.

“Hey…” she whispered, lips trailing over Adore’s jaw, then grazing her ear. “We can take things slow, you know.”

“But we’ve already-”

“I know.” Courtney pulled her close. “I know, it’s been ten years. But...not really.”

Adore bit her lip, letting out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Courtney murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek, “We have the rest of our lives. There’s no reason to hurry.”

At that, Adore finally smiled for real, the smile that never failed to make Courtney warm inside. She turned her head, capturing Courtney’s lips in another kiss, slow and tender.

It was strange to get used to, for Adore. It had been years since she shared a bed with Courtney without that hideously painful yearning, without feeling guilty and ashamed. For her part, Courtney seemed to adjust to their new normal almost instantly, kicking off her shorts and slipping into the sleeping bag with Adore, settling beside her with a sigh.

It wasn’t all that different from how they usually slept--legs intertwined, Courtney’s head on her shoulder. But this time, the warm breath tickling her neck didn’t make her feel trapped or overwhelmed. This time, she didn’t shy away from the press of Courtney’s thighs under the flannel lining. When Courtney’s lips gently grazed the underside of her jaw, she didn’t turn away.

And when Courtney murmured, “I love you,” into her skin, it no longer made her feel hopeless and bitter.

She turned towards her, eyes shining in the moonlight, and all she wanted was for this feeling, this closeness, to last forever.

“I love you too, Court.”

She received a beaming smile in return, and an excited, exuberant kiss that soon grew heated as their legs slid against each other’s under the covers. Earlier, she’d been hesitant and a bit insecure, worried that if they moved too fast, they’d regret it. Or that they wouldn’t be on the same page. Or, worst of all, that Courtney would change her mind, realize that she didn’t really like girls after all.

But looking at her now in the still of the night, seeing her glazed eyes and shallow breathing as Adore’s fingers trailed over her skin, she knew that wouldn’t happen. She knew that whatever this thing was between them was real, and suddenly she didn’t want to wait anymore.

Adore pushed Courtney onto her back, hands sliding up from her waist, pulling open the buttons of her top. She let her eyes wander over her body, saw her nipples tighten as her fingers skated around them. Courtney bit back a whimper as Adore lowered her head and took one of those stiff nipples into her mouth.

“Fuck,” Courtney gasped out, hands tightening in her hair, a broken moan leaving her as Adore began sucking harder. Her hips rolled against Adore’s, slow at first and then faster, desperate, and Adore couldn’t resist slipping a leg between her thighs, giving her something to grind against.

The sick, guilty feeling that always plagued Adore’s fantasies was slowly dissipating, helped by how very clearly Courtney wanted this, welcoming every touch with enthusiasm and a thrilling neediness.

She continued to kiss down her body, lingering on her soft lower belly, watching her hips rise, hands still tangled in her hair turning to fists.

“This what you want?” Adore asked softly, lips brushing lower, finger trailing along the edge of her panties.

“Mmhmm…” Courtney’s hips lifted higher.

Adore spread her legs, placed a kiss just inside her knee, then up her thigh, higher and higher. She paused again, fingers hooking into her underwear, but before she could begin sliding them down, Courtney groaned, forcing herself into a sitting position and taking her by the cheeks with both hands.

“Hey.” Thumbs stroked Adore’s face. “You know that this is...I mean it’s not just about this...right?”

Adore gazed up at her, offering a sweet and hopeful smile, and nodded. “Of course.”

“I mean...it’s us. And I…” Courtney kissed her again, soft as a feather. “I want you, but only if you’re okay with it.”

“I’m more than okay,” Adore promised, nuzzling against her face. “And I want you too. I really, really do.”

Courtney placed another kiss on her forehead before flopping backwards against the one good bean bag chair they were using as a makeshift pillow.

“Well, alright then. Have at it…” She punctuated her statement with a naughty smile, and Adore couldn’t help but giggle, because it was so her.

She cast her eyes down again, slipping her fingers into the sides of her panties. The familiarity of her scent was intoxicating.

“You ready?” Adore whispered, not missing the telltale rise of her hips as the hot breath ghosted against her.

“Yes, Dory, please…” Courtney whimpered.

It was that nickname, Dory, that finally did it for Adore. Made her feel like she was in exactly the right place with exactly the right person. The person who had been there all along, loving her fiercely and deeply even when Adore had felt her most lost and lonely. It erased any doubt that they might be making a mistake, any hesitation about taking this leap into the unknown.

Adore let her eyes close for a brief second, basking in the closeness, the beauty of this moment when it was all new, when everything shimmered with possibility.

And then, she jumped.

#rpdr fanfiction #tree house kisses #scorpio #veronica #adorney #adore delano #courtney act #lesbian au #high school au #angst #fluff #smut #(sort of)

12 notes · View notes